


Ancalima Hendi

by EldritchMage



Series: Kili and Tauriel [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarf/Elf romance/love/sex, Elf/Dwarf romance/love/sex, F/M, First Love, First Time Sex, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Love Conquers All, Love at First Sight, Manipulative Thranduil, Orcs, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, cheeky kili, dark side of Tauriel, nasty Gundebad Orcs, nasty Orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Tauriel's side of the tale that Kili told in "A Gift of Sunlight". I hope you enjoy it!</p><p>As if the captain of King Thranduil's guards doesn't have enough to worry about with Orcs, Wargs, and giant spiders, now there are Dwarves infesting Mirkwood. One in particular is worrying -- he keeps staring at Tauriel in a most unDwarflike fashion. Is he... smiling at her?</p><p>Please leave me a comment to let me know how you liked my tale. Thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancalima Hendi

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to this and "A Gift of Sunlight" is called "Innikh Dê", so take a look if you're interested.

 

I watched the stars appear from the isolated flet where I often perched, basking as the starlight refreshed me as it does all of the Eldar. But I was not here merely to rest. I was here to hunt. I was after Orcs.

The air was full of late autumn chill, the fading light of the sun, the acrid smell of dead leaves, and the shrill chatter of bats. The first three were welcome. The last was not. These bats were not mice-sized creatures intent on a meal of insects. These were much larger, looking for two-legged prey. Had they spotted me?

As usual, I was alone; the rest of my people viewed the stars only from behind windows and grates. Long ago, we had savored the nighttime forest, restoring ourselves in the light of the stars. But we had not done so for many years, perhaps a Man’s lifetime. With each passing year, more and more giant bats had taken to the skies, trailing the hordes of Orcs that prowled with their mongrel Wargs. Huge black spiders skittered from the depths of Dol Guldur to infest more and more of the trees, even those directly above the underground sanctuary of my people. It was no longer safe for Woodland Elves to venture openly into the trees at night, not when so many enemies lurked nearby.

The bats veered westward. I followed.

There – the faint raucous sound of carrion crows. No better than flying rats, carrion crows trailed Orc packs hoping for tidbits, and they drew the bats with their calls. If an Orc pack prowled the western borders of the wood, I wanted to know, so as to direct our guardsmen on the morrow to obliterate them.

If, during my spying, I slew some of the Orcs, so much the better.

No, the carrion crows had flown into the wood only to roost. They were still far off, though to hear them from this distance meant a large flock, and that meant they trailed an equally large Orc pack. It wasn’t prudent even for me to venture alone against so many enemies so far away. I reluctantly noted the place to watch tomorrow, then circled back towards our stronghold. The Orcs, if they ventured into the wood, would draw within reach soon enough.

If Orcs were not to be my prey tonight, then spiders would have to do. Disappointed, I made my way northwest. The guard had recently scoured a wide swath of the forest clean of spider webs and nests, and I would confirm that the huge black spiders had not returned. It was our most constant task, to clear the wood of these vermin, for they reappeared with increasing speed and numbers.

I stifled my impatience. No matter how often we cleared the wood of those foul black spiders, they would return, because King Thranduil refused to allow us to eliminate them at the source. So long as spiders bred in the heart of Dol Guldur’s black fortress, we could not stop them from overrunning the trees. The king, however, held the Woodland Elves apart in our underground limestone fortress, convinced that hunkering behind our impenetrable walls would keep us safe from invaders, be they spiders, Orcs, or Goblins. He thought that hiding kept the world from intruding upon us... but I thought it diminished us. If we hadn’t depended on trade with the Men of Laketown for food, wine, and materiel, we would have had no contact with anyone outside of our realm.

I was only the lowly captain of the guards, not a king, and knew very little.

I circled to the grove the guard had cleaned of spiders not two weeks ago. I found a high perch among branches too light to support any but the smallest spiders, and stilled all movement, even of my breath. But I didn’t hold still and silent for long. There, three trees farther on, a nest of the vermin was already spun, eggs already laid, with two aunt nurses on guard. I swallowed a curse. A nest so far along meant a bigger infestation than I’d expected, and not one a single Elf could attack successfully. The spiders never nested until they had well infiltrated an area. I might have already slipped past outlying guards. I studied the nearby trees before I made my way away. Despite my urge to hunt, I didn’t want to confront any of them tonight; far better to come upon them tomorrow unannounced and in force, so that we slew more of them.

I slipped away silently, and headed back into the fortress.

“Tauriel. How many did you take tonight?”

I shut the door behind me without answering. It was Legolas who asked, King Thranduil’s son, royal prince, and heir to the Antlered Throne. I had grown up with him after my parents’ death, so we knew each other well, and in private we didn’t always hold to the strict protocol of our rank, which would have required a lowly Nandor to answer a royal Sindar’s query. His tone might have seemed cold, even harsh, to most, but it was dismay, not anger. Legolas considered the nightly forays of the captain of the king’s guard to be unnecessary and reckless. It was not affection that caused his dismay – I had learned long ago that being the prince’s playmate did not mean I was his equal. Instead, he didn’t like how I ignored convention and personal safety when I prowled the treetops at night. Convention was not something Legolas ignored. Usually, I let his concern pass without comment. Tonight, however, it irritated me. Did convention keep us safe? Did he ever think spontaneously? What would it take for him to dare to break a convention? Did he –

I stifled the thought. The king had drilled the discipline of obedience and convention and surety into his son for so long that if Legolas ever had the urge to act otherwise, it had been pounded out of him long ago. Legolas would never be the Elf I wished he were, just as I, a lowly Silvan Elf, would never be his equal, no matter how good a captain of the guard I was. I grimaced; once again, this old lament changed no more than it ever did.

I barred the door behind me before I faced Legolas. “The Homing Glade already hosts at least one new nest of spiders. I’ll take the guard back in the morn to clear them.”

Legolas’ face never twitched, but he didn’t like my refusal to answer his question. Why should I have to? Unusually, my knives were sheathed, my quiver was full of arrows, and my uniform was unstained, so it should be clear that I had gone out and returned unscathed. I granted him the privilege of his rank and waited silently for him to dismiss me.

“I’ll accompany you tomorrow, then.” He put his hand on his heart and nodded. He didn’t have to grant me even that much of a bow, but his unfailing courtesy was one more manifestation of how proper Legolas was, without fail. “Until then.”

“Until then, My Lord,” I bowed, matching his propriety with my own. He cast me a frown, as if he suspected me of mockery, but I meant none, so he retreated without comment.

When he was well out of earshot, I sighed. I didn’t know whether to pity the king’s son, or clout him over the head.

 

* * *

 

I returned to my rooms, glad to make it there unremarked and unheralded. My encounter with Legolas depressed me as much as the recurring infestation of spiders did. My people were caught in a web of inertia as surely as if we hung as meat for the spiders. We did nothing but retreat, hide, and hunker down in our burrows like mice. I didn’t mind the secrecy, but I did the willful disregard for the enemies around us. Oh, I’d heard the story countless times, how our king had lost his beloved wife to Orcs as I had lost my parents, how he had come to his kingship only after the death of his father and fully three-quarters of our warriors at Gundebad centuries ago, how he entombed the remains of our people in our limestone cavern so as to not lose any more. Truly, our people owed our king our lives – me as much as anyone, for he had fostered me after my parents’ death. I don’t know why – perhaps my loss reminded him of his own, or perhaps he honored my parents’ sacrifice. He had seen to all of my physical needs – shelter, food, clothing, education – without stint. But when I’d moved from my parents’ small but warm rooms into much more palatial ones, replete with servants and luxuries and the royal prince as a playmate, I found them as devoid of comfort as a tomb. The king was too consumed by the demands of our kingdom and his own losses to comfort an orphaned child – he barely spent time with his own son. He said nothing to anyone about my status – was I a favored child? A glorified servant? – so no one knew how to treat with me, and most chose to not treat with me at all. I felt like I was the true Grey Elf who wandered the palatial apartment, not the king or his son, for I moved among our people with as much face as a shadow, as much heart as a corpse.

As I put aside my clothing to bathe, I savored my hollowness as a wounded warrior would a missing leg. For centuries, I hadn’t understood how bereft I was. When my grief faded, hatred replaced it, hatred of the creatures that had taken my parents and all joy from my life. By the time I understood how deep my hatred ran, I’d spent too many nights in the trees preying on the creatures that had robbed me, and preferred to avoid the company of my own kind.

In time, my skills in the forest allowed me to excel in the guard. Despite being a maid, I was made captain at a very young age, which isolated me even more. I became as hollow as the cavern that sheltered us, and the only creatures I had any ties to were the ones I preyed upon.

I finished bath and breakfast with those bitter thoughts to season my meal. I would soon report for duty, and once again try to fill my hollowness by spilling the black blood of spiders.

 

* * *

 

The sun was just rising as I entered the guards’ room. As was my habit, I was early, and just one or two others rummaged among their gear for armor or arms. I already wore my vambraces, graves, and cuirass; my knives were sharpened and in their sheaths at my back; and my quiver and bow were in place. I paced, impatient to start our morning raid, but I hadn’t long to wait; the morning’s detail quickly assembled around the table.

“Spiders have returned to the Homing Glade,” I said when the last one of us stood by the table. “At least one nest, so be sure to look for others, and be careful not to run afoul of the outliers. Both the nest guardians are fully mature, so likely we will find the nesting queen among her brood. I want the entire nest cleaned out, but especially look for the queen to finish her.”

A slight rustle went among the patrol. I straightened, feeling Legolas’ presence behind me. I turned and bowed as required.

“Lord Legolas,” I nodded.

He nodded back, already scanning the others in the room. “Captain Tauriel. Good morn to you all.”

Murmured replies whispered softly. Legolas was well liked among us, with reason. He was a formidable warrior, a fair and honest commander, and no stranger to any task, even those the lowest ranking guardsman performed. He looked back at me.

“Forgive my interruption. Please, go on.”

I bowed. “The spiders are our target this morning. But all of you keep a wary eye out. Bats and carrion crows swarmed last night to the west towards the Beornings’ lands, which may mean an Orc pack is about. Jassolin, take your quad west as far as the Glimmer Dale for a look. If you see anything, return will all haste so that we can muster a response. With so many of us after the spiders, we’ll want to call in the next shift early if we have Orcs to deal with. Understood? Any questions?”

There were none, so we filed out of the cavern and into the forest. As the tall limestone doors shut behind us, we crossed the narrow bridge over the river and spread out through the forest.

Above me, the sky glimmered through the leaves as tiny shards of blue, and sunlight dappled the uppermost leaves with gold. On the forest floor, however, little light filtered through, and the air was dim and thick with autumn spores. The smell of mold was heavy, and underfoot the fallen leaves had already turned limp and slimy with moisture. It was a tricky path, but a silent one, and should keep our presence from the spiders’ notice until we were fully among them.

We had run so many raids on the spiders that setting our attack was second nature. When I fired at the queen, the rest of our patrol would move quickly against the rest. And so it began – I had put an arrow through the brain of the young nesting queen, and was running for my next target as my companions sprang. There – beyond the first nest lay a second, with a second queen. But this one wasn’t so inexperienced as the first, and didn’t wait with her brood for me to attack her. She fled deeper into the forest with me in pursuit. This was an old, canny matriarch, as full of cunning as she was of malice, and she had evaded pursuit before. My arrows struck her several times, but never a killing blow. It took a long time to finally stab my knife into her brain. As she fell, I stayed atop the body as it flopped down the slope with two attendants in pursuit. As the queen’s body slithered to a stop, I rolled away, shooting first one of the attendants, then –

A spider before me scrabbled in the leaf litter, seeking to pin something – another Elf – no, something smaller...

A Dwarf?

I turned and shot the second attendant, then shot the spider after the Dwarf. He scrabbled to his feet, his dark eyes wide and bright with surprise –

Was he smiling at me?

What kind of Dwarf was he? He was tall for his kind, without a beard beyond a dark shadow against his cheek. Long, black, wavy hair, unbraided but for a bit at each temple pulled back to hold the rest out of his eyes. High cheekbones, pointed chin, and those bright eyes so full of life –

Another spider rushed me from behind. I turned and rammed my knife into the middle of its eyes. Even as life faded from those eyes, another crashed through the litter behind the Dwarf –

“Throw me a dagger!” the Dwarf called. “Quick!”

I turned in one smooth motion and flung my second knife, felling the spider at the feet of the Dwarf. I glared at him, only to find such open delight plastered on his face that I was quite struck. No one had ever looked at me that way before, and I felt quite flustered.

“If you think that I’m giving you a weapon, Dwarf, you are mistaken!” I snarled, but his admiring grin didn’t fade. I glared at him all the harder as I retrieved my knife from the dead spider, yanking it free with a grunt. I pointed it at him. “That way.”

His lips twitched in that smile he couldn’t repress, but he turned docilely enough and paced ahead of me towards the rest of my patrol. Imagine my surprise to find my companions surrounding another dozen Dwarves in the midst of the Homing Glade. I shoved the one I’d captured to join the others, and gestured for Sillanin to search him and bind his wrists. As I usually did, I moved among the patrol, taking stock of our foray.

“Are all of the spiders dead?” Legolas asked as I passed by.

“Yes, but more will come. They’re getting bolder,” I warned. “There were three nests; the first held a juvenile; the second hosted a mature queen. I finished those two, and Sillanin took the third, also a juvenile. There should not have been so many given how recently we cleared this area. And what of these Dwarves?”

Legolas’ face was grim. “What, indeed?”

He held up the blade one of our companions had brought him. It was beautiful, an ancient Elvish weapon rarely seen out of our hands, for it had been forged in long destroyed Gondolin. Legolas turned to the Dwarf who had borne the blade.

“Where did you get this?”

The Dwarf was well clad in a furred coat, and his clothes underneath it were richly made. His compatriots deferred to him, so he must be the leader. “It was given to me,” he growled. Despite his lack of height and his bound wrists, he looked up at Legolas with defiance – and more than a little hatred. I knew that emotion well. This one would give us nothing but trouble.

Of course, Legolas answered the Dwarf’s surliness with his own. “Then you are a liar as well as an invader.” He dismissed the Dwarf with a curl of his lip. “Search them all, and bring them in tow.”

This was duly done. Truly, these Dwarves were up to mischief, for the pile of weapons we amassed from them was staggering. A young blond one must have had a dozen and a half knives secreted in his clothes, all of them treasured, because he winced as each one was taken from him. Beside him, the dark Dwarf looked regretfully at the pile of his mate’s arms, but he had had nothing to add to the pile. From the harness and empty quiver at his back, he was an archer, and he’d also carried a sword. I supposed he’d used them all to defend himself against the spiders. He caught me looking at him, and couldn’t suppress a half smile. Truly, was he mad? Why did he stare at me so? I looked down my nose the way Legolas so often did when he was displeased with someone, but the Dwarf didn’t drop his eyes. In fact, he half bowed to me before his hands were bound. I shoved him roughly in line with his mates to march back to the fortress.

Disarmed and bound as they were, the Dwarves gave us no trouble. Two of the guards took their leader away to the king, but the rest we took down to the cells. I almost laughed when Norlinn pulled yet one more blade from the young blond Dwarf before gesturing him into the cell. He went with a grimace and a shrug. I guided the dark one into the next cell. He looked from his mate to me.

“Aren’t you going to search me?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye and an innocent expression. This one was a rascal. I resisted a smile and kept my expression neutral. “I could have anything down my trousers.”

The fool wanted me to search him! I arched an eyebrow. “Or nothing,” I riposted in a cold tone, and shut the grate on him. When I looked back at him, he was smiling.

“Why does that Dwarf keep looking at you?” Legolas demanded. He was irritated, as if a fledgling warrior from the primary class had challenged him to a bout.

“Who can tell?” I replied. “He’s a Dwarf. Though... he’s quite tall for a Dwarf... isn’t he?”

Now, why in the forest had I said that? Legolas looked confused, then displeased. I left him there to ponder. I would soon have to report on our foray to the king, and I had to speak with my patrol beforehand. I strode up from the cells to the guardroom with purpose.

Why had a strange, dark rascal of a Dwarf smiled at me?

 

* * *

 

Much later, I retreated to my rooms in a welter of emotions. My report to King Thranduil had been full of surprises, none of which had to do with our morning foray. I had relayed the details straightforwardly enough, but the king was unusually sharp, demanding to know why we hadn’t cleaned out The Homing Glade as he had ordered. I reminded him that we had, but the spiders spawning in Dol Guldur had recolonized it as soon as we’d cleared it. Again, I asked to take our fight to the source, and again the king had reiterated his position of remaining within our borders. These were well-worn opinions on both sides, and I expected nothing to come of reiterating them yet again.

Then the king had confided that Legolas had spoken well of my fighting, which surprised me. I was further surprised when the king confessed that perhaps Legolas was not so disinterested in me as the prince let on. But no sooner had my spirits begun to rise than the king crushed them, telling me that I was not fit for his son, and was not to encourage him. His unfeeling arrogance stabbed me past bearing, but I let nothing show on my face. It wasn’t until I was dismissed and could retreat to my rooms that my eyes stung.

Unbidden, the dark eyes of an overly tall Dwarf smiled at me. Oh, Valar, where did that come from? Was I so alone that I thought of a foreigner, not even one of my own kind, for solace? That made me so angry that I hurled myself into the bath and scrubbed all over as if I’d been covered in filth beyond description. Then I scrubbed again because I still thought about the Dwarf!

By the time my skin was nearly raw, I lay back with a sigh. I couldn’t soak here much longer; tonight was the Festival of Starlight. As usual, I wanted no part of going, but someone would knock on my door to bring me along just because everyone went. I dried, dressed my hair, put on a clean uniform, and took myself down to the cells. Girillion was on duty tonight; I told him to take himself off to the festival, and I would stand in his place. This was not the first festival I’d stood for another, so my offer was met with glad appreciation. Once he hurried away, I started on the rounds of the cells.

All of the Dwarves were quiet. They’d been given their rations of bread, cheese, and a little meat, plus fresh water, and some slept. The blond one hummed softly, breaking off when I passed by to meet my eyes warily. Next to him was the dark Dwarf. He sat slumped on the sleeping platform, tossing something in his hand.

“What’s that in your hand?” I asked without thinking.

“It’s a talisman,” he replied seriously. “If any but a Dwarf reads it, it brings doom and destruction.” He palmed it and thrust it at me, as if making a warding gesture. I blinked in surprise, and moved on.

“Or not,” he said in a lighter tone.

I looked back at him.

“It’s just a rune stone,” he shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “My mother gave it to me. To remind me of my promise.”

“What promise?” I asked, interested despite myself.

“That I’d come back to her. She thinks I’m reckless.” His smile was wry.

I found my lips curving up in response. “And are you?”

He shrugged with a youngling’s bravado. When he tossed his stone again, it slipped from his hands, skittered under the door of his cell, and bounced past me. I stepped on it to stop it from pitching over the edge of the walk, and picked it up to look at it.

“Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there,” he said, coming to stand by the door.

I nodded. “It is _Mereth Nuin Giliath_. The Feast Under the Starlight – or Festival of Starlight, in the Common Tongue. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but it is the starlight that we love best.”

He leaned against the grate to gaze up at me. “I’ve always thought it was a cold light. Remote.”

I turned back to him. “It’s memory.” I turned the rune stone over to look at the inscription. I couldn’t read the Dwarvish runes, but they were cut into the smooth stone with strong, even cuts. It was warm from his hands, warmer than it would be if an Elf had held it. “I savor the starlight almost every night, from the treetops. It’s another world, to sit halfway between the earth and the sky, with the light of the stars streaming down like silver. It’s so clean. So pure.” I savored the stone’s warmth for a moment, then held it out to him. “Like your promise.”

He slipped his fingers through the grate, brushing mine. They were strong and calloused, but gentle as he took back his stone. They were warm, too. He even smelled warm, but it was a good smell, tinged with wood smoke, spices, and his own unique scent.

“I saw a fire moon once,” he offered, when I would have moved on. “Big and ruddy red, it was. It filled the whole sky. We were escorting some merchants...”

Despite myself, I listened to his soft voice as he told of the moon’s wonder. I sat on the steps outside his cell, and we were almost eye to eye as we talked. Many moments passed before I called myself back to task.

“It’s time I’m about my duties,” I said regretfully.

“I’m glad you stopped,” the Dwarf said. He put his hand over his heart and bowed to me. “I hope you come back.”

I nodded. “Perhaps.”

As I turned to move on, he spoke again. “What’s your name?”

I thought about not answering, but something refused to let me be silent. “Tauriel.”

“Tauriel,” he repeated quietly, pleased at my confidence. The syllables lingered in his voice like a caress. “I’m Kíli. Good night to you, Tauriel.”

“Thank you... Kíli.”

I moved only a few steps before something drew my eyes upward. Legolas stood on the landing above me, looking down at me with a frown. My heart jumped as if he’d caught me doing something untoward, but I met his gaze steadily. He had no reason to watch me... unless the king had been right about the change in his feelings.

I wasn’t as happy about that as I thought I’d be. When I wondered why, all I could think of were dark Dwarvish eyes. That disquieted me as much as catching Legolas as he watched me.

 

* * *

 

The next several days passed as so many had before them... almost. We still had Dwarves in our kingdom, albeit in cells. They would likely remain there for the foreseeable future. I didn’t know what had brought the Dwarves into our realm, but the longstanding feud between our people would keep them here, for the Dwarves’ leader had exchanged insults with King Thranduil. Rumors were whispered at every turn, and while I said little, I listened. So I learned that the Dwarves’ leader was none other than Thorin Oakenshield, the heir to Erebor. Some rumors even speculated that he intended to march on the ruined city to reclaim his birthright, but I discounted that. There were but thirteen Dwarves, few of them warriors. Even if all of them had been the cream of Dwarvish warriorhood, they were still no match for the formidable dragon that had claimed their city. Likely they were merely Dwarvish merchants who had strayed into the forest.

I continued to make the rounds of the cells, speaking with all of the Dwarves who would speak to one they considered an enemy. One was a toymaker, another was an accountant, a third was an apothecary, and several were rustic miners. The blond Dwarf, Fíli, was older brother to Kíli, and they were sister’s sons to Thorin. Thorin, of course, wouldn’t deign to speak to me. The fierce warrior with the bald head, multiple tattoos, and almost as many scars, spoke often enough, but only in Dwarvish, and I expected that most of his words were the foulest of curses, which perversely made me grin. The oldest, Balin, was polite and well spoken; the youngest, shy Ori, was an artist and scribe, and spoke admiringly of the carvings that decorated his cell. But mostly I talked with Kíli, who had an irrepressible spirit that even imprisonment couldn’t quench. He was very young, but he’d made his living as a caravan guard, smith, and warrior for some decades, and had seen more peoples of far more lands than I had. He was a keen observer and made a good tale of his adventures.

One night I had just paused by his cell when his brother next door began to sing softly. Two or three of the other Dwarves took up the tune. Kíli blushed so deeply that I saw it in the dim light. He snapped something in his people’s guttural language, drawing laughter, but the song didn’t stop.

“What are they singing?” I asked.

He snorted, but that didn’t cover his embarrassment. “They’re envious,” he said loudly enough to carry to the other cells.

“Of what?” I asked, smiling, because several rude outbursts met Kíli’s words.

He met my eyes with a private smile. Truly, his gaze was as warm as sunlight, and I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Of me. Because I’m the lucky one who gets to talk with a beautiful Elf warrior maid, not them.”

Something that sounded like an incredulous exclamation came from Fíli’s cell. I grinned at how Kíli rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. They don’t tell a tale as well as you do.”

Kíli’s eyes widened. “They don’t?”

I shook my head. “Some of them won’t talk to me at all. And one of them who does speaks only in Dwarvish.”

“The one with an axe in his head? That’s Bifur. An Orc gave him that whack, and he’s never said another word in the Common Tongue since. He’s all right.”

“Not him. I think this one curses me, because he sounds quite disgruntled.”

He laughed. “That’s likely Master Dwalin. The bald one with all the tattoos?” I nodded. “Ah. The surly bald one with tattoos. Yes, he’s cursing. Quite foully, I’m afraid. I apologize for him.”

An emphatic curse was spat in reply, which was met with laughter, including my own. “That’s Master Dwalin,” Kíli confirmed.

“He knows quite a few curses.”

“Aye, he does that,” Kíli said with reverence. “Quite creative, he is. You can curse him back, if you like. You’ll impress him if you give him as good as you’ve gotten. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not getting his worst. He saves that for the Orcs.”

My smile faded, and I looked away. “So do I.”

Kíli’s brows knit in concern. “What happened?”

I swallowed. I wasn’t going to answer, but Kíli’s expression was sad, so why shouldn’t I answer him? He and his people had paid their own high price to the Orcs, a heavier one than mine had. If anyone knew the pain of such deaths, maybe he would. “They... killed my parents. I was just a child.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I grew up without a father. My mother, though, she’s bedrock. To lose both parents... I’m sorry.”

“Did Orcs take your father?”

He looked away. “I don’t know. Probably.”

I hummed. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I’ve gotten over it. I still have my brother, even if he’s a _doh kro_.”

“Bugger you, Kíli,” Fíli’s voice inserted itself into the conversation, making me laugh.

“You first, Fíli,” Kíli shot back with a wink at me. “Sideways. With a pike.”

I got up from the step, smiling at Fíli’s Dwarvish reply, which from its sound was too obscene for Kíli to translate. “I’d better finish my rounds.”

“Do you have a brother? Sister?”

I shook my head. “The Eldar... we are few, despite our long lives.”

Kíli mulled somberly. “One alone, eh?”

I had no answer that I wanted to give all the listening ears, so turned away.

 “Come back tomorrow?”

I looked back, meeting his warm eyes. Even in the dimness of the cells, they drew me. “If I can.”

“I look forward to it. I wish you a good evening, Tauriel.”

I grinned at the murmurs that rose from Kíli’s companions. “I don’t think they do.”

He shrugged and gave me a what-can-I-do-with-them? look. I was still grinning when the sniping rose at my exit. I didn’t need to understand Dwarvish to know that they ribbed the tall dark one for his audacity to speak to an Elf.

 

* * *

 

I hadn’t come on duty the next night before someone ran to fetch me. Each and every Dwarf, all thirteen of them, was gone, leaving only locked and empty cells behind them.

“Get me the master of the keys!” I snarled, and ran for the cells. I had checked only half of the cells before word came that the master of the keys had been found asleep in the larder with the supply master. Both of them had drunk themselves into a stupor on the heady wine reserved for King Thranduil’s table. The keys were hanging on the wall, but all of the empty barrels waiting to float down the river back to Laketown were gone. I raced out of the larder and out on the parapet above the river drop gates in time to see the barrels floating down the river, each one with a Dwarf inside.

“Signal the river sentries to close the gates!” I ordered the guard on the parapet. With his horn blasts echoing in my ears, I ran back to the guardroom and hastily gathered all who were there to chase after the Dwarves. Legolas was there, and he was as quick to gather his bow and quiver as the rest of us. We ran out at full speed.

As we raced through the forest to converge on the sluice gates above the first waterfall, I spotted grey shadows running beside us, just out of sight in the underbrush.

“Orcs!” I shouted to my comrades. “Flanking you on the right! Orcs!”

Our arrows brought down the first several Orcs without retaliation, but that was because these were only the late arrivals. Many more had already converged on the sluice gates to slay the Elvish sentries, though the sentries had managed to close the gates before they fell. The Dwarves were penned in their barrels against the gate for the moment, so we turned our attention to the swarm of Orcs. Their numbers surprised me, and I wondered what had drawn so many of them this close to our stronghold, but I had to let that question go unanswered as we fought to slay the foul creatures.

In the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a short, dark figure that darted up the stairs to the sluice gates. It was Kíli, intent on opening the gates to free the way for his kin. He was unarmed, and Orcs converged on him. He dodged several of them nimbly, and even managed to snatch a blade from one of them, which he wielded ably against his bigger opponents. That attracted the attention of several Orcish bowmen, who sent arrows after the Dwarf. My breath caught. Orcish arrows were often poisoned, and when their vicious barbed points didn’t slay outright, the poison they bore brought days of excruciating, lingering agony before inevitable death. I sent several of the bowmen to whatever hell they believed in, even though that gave Kíli the opening he wanted to work the sluice gates. He forced the lever down, opening the gates, which his kinsmen met with cheers. As they streamed past the gates towards the falls in their barrels, Kíli dove into the water after them. He missed the empty barrel nearest Ori, and plunged under the water like a rock. I had to look away as several Orcs pressed me, but when I looked back, I didn’t see him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and raced with the rest of the guardsmen after the fleeing barrels and the Orcs that pursued them.

I cannot describe the turbulent fight that we made down the river. There seemed no end to the Orcs, and no end to the efforts both my people and the Dwarves made against them. The Dwarves proved themselves able fighters, even in barrels in the middle of a river, seizing Orcish blades from their attackers, tossing them back and forth between them to reach the point of greatest need. Even the fattest Dwarf I’d ever seen managed to roll his barrel ashore over several Orcs and then back into the river, and the one Kíli had named Dwalin was the most formidable fighter I’ve ever seen. Legolas was just as spectacular a fighter. In the end, however, the river sped the Dwarves away past our ability to pursue them, and the Orcs raced away as fast after them, leaving my people behind. We returned to our stronghold empty-handed, and the masters of the keys and the larder quickly found themselves in two of the cells that had hours before had held Dwarves. The stir and ensuing recriminations took hours to subside. Only then did I retreat to my rooms.

I had not seen Kíli surface from the water after he’d jumped in. He had likely drowned.

I buried my face in my pillow and cried as I hadn’t since my parents had died.

 

* * *

 

I awoke with bleary and swollen eyes, an aching head, and sore muscles. Only the latter were remnants of yesterday’s fight against the Orcs. The rest were because I mourned a Dwarf. Eight Elves had died yesterday, all guardsmen I’d known and served with for centuries. Yet the loss of them paled beside the inexplicable grief that overwhelmed me because a Dwarf had drowned. Kíli had drowned. Kíli.

I dragged myself out of bed, and back into the bath. That seemed to be where I’d spent most of my time during the past week. It was useless to think that soaking myself in hot water until I wrinkled like a dried apple would warm the hollow place inside me. It made no sense, and the lack of sense angered me.

He’d looked at me as a –

I refused to complete that thought. There was nothing but ruination in it, nothing but more mourning and more loss and more hollowness –

The way his eyes had held such a spark... the way he’d almost danced up the steps to the sluice gate, as nimble as any Elf... the ease with which he’d dodged through the Orcs that had towered over him, even disarming one in mid swing, deftly juggling the unwieldy blade in his hands to take it in a solid grip, then slaying two Orcs with it in nearly instant succession... the irrepressible smile he’d graced me with so many times...

I pressed my hands against my eyes as if that would banish Kíli from my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want to understand what was rising in my heart, nor bear the pain of what that rising meant.

I tried to think of Legolas, but dark Dwarvish eyes got in the way.

I flung myself out of the bath, scraping the towel over my skin in frantic swipes, then flung on my uniform and ran out of my rooms to the guardroom. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t due to serve today. What did matter was that I didn’t allow myself a moment to think.

The turmoil from yesterday’s fight meant that the guardroom was in an uproar, and everyone assumed I was there to address the uproar. If I was rattled, everyone around me was more so, and I found calm in bringing others to calm. I briskly sent out one patrol and another to scout for the Orcs, set the watches, and assigned two guards to patrol the drop gates in the larder. I was surprised that Legolas hadn’t made an appearance, then concerned. He likely attended his father, which didn’t bode well for the king’s temper; Legolas was the only one who could mitigate the worst of King Thranduil’s rages, so if he were with his father, then the king was likely in a rage. It didn’t surprise me when word was brought that ordered four guardsmen to report to Legolas, who was organizing a patrol of Elves to travel to Laketown in search of either Dwarves or Orcs. I sent them off and returned to my reworking of the evening’s assignments to cover so many special patrols.

“Tauriel, the king calls for you.”

I looked up at Nallion. The young Elf’s face was anxious and confused, and he was out of breath. He’d run from the Antlered Throne then, which meant the king was in the rage I’d suspected. “What’s happened?”

“They’ve brought in one of the Dwarves.”

I gasped. “They’ve what?”

“One of the Dwarves. The king has called for you.”

My heart was in my mouth, and my body spasmed with cold. How I managed to get myself out of the guardroom I can’t say. I ran through the passages blindly until I reached the Antlered Throne. There, on his knees before the king –

When Kíli turned towards me, when his bright eyes met mine, I was lost. The thought I never wanted to finish, the rising in my heart I’d never thought to feel, the sudden dizziness as my blood drained, the blood heat that flooded every bit of me, the look that flew from Kíli to me that told me he was just as doomed...

An Elf loves but once. And I loved a Dwarf.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you were dead,” I blurted.

“So did I,” Kíli’s shrug was artfully nonchalant, and I nearly gasped when he winked at me.

I stilled myself with an iron grip. “How did he come here, My Lord? We thought him drowned in the river when his kin fled our realm.”

“So we did,” King Thranduil replied drily. “Kamdir claims that that he was found in _Glawar-galad_. The Dwarf claims that he was gardening.”

“I was,” Kíli said, still gazing at me. “I could find no way out, so I took it upon myself to make something of the ruin in which I found myself. I thought maybe someone would find my bones in a few hundred years, and appreciate that the hand of a Dwarf had made a jewel out of a ruined garden despite old feuds.”

The three Elves I faced all gaped. “What would you have us do with the Dwarf, My Lord?”

“Return him to the cell that held him when he first arrived. Let him consider his predicament while I consider what to do with him.”

“If it pleases you, King Thranduil,” Kíli turned towards him, “I would ask you to let me stay in your _Glawar-galad_. I cannot escape it – your guards can vouch for that. I’m just a Dwarf, not a lizard that can scale a sheer, three-hundred-foot limestone wall and skitter across a flat rock ceiling. If I have to be a prisoner, I’d rather occupy my hands in a garden than hold them idle in a cell. And would not your people welcome the return of such a place?”

King Thranduil’s lip curled. “What could a Dwarf do that would possibly be of any use to me or my people?”

“I repaired your bloody mirrors that brought light into the cavern, for starters,” Kíli shot right back, drawing the king to his feet in a rush. I held my breath, for the king was not one to let impertinence pass from our people, much less from a race he considered little better than animals. “They were made by Dwarves – did you know that? Well, they were, and now a Dwarf has set them right again after the Valar know how many years of neglect. If you’re going to pack me away, you might as well do it in a way that gets you something. Caging me in a dark cell doesn’t. Letting me tend your _Glawar-galad_ does.”

The king drew himself up to his tallest, and I was sure he was about to separate Kíli’s body from his head. But Legolas came up behind me, distracting the king.

“That is one of Thorin Oakenshield’s companions,” Legolas glared. “He stayed behind to do mischief, I warrant.”

“He says he’s been trapped in _Glawar-galad_ since his companions escaped,” I said evenly, still staring at Kíli.

“He says what?” Legolas repeated in disbelief.

“So he claims,” King Thranduil murmured, all but sneering as he resumed his throne with a glower. At least his rage had cooled, if only a little. Quickly, though, his sneer faded to a self-satisfied smile. He flicked a hand at me. “Find out whether he has done the work he claims, and whether _Glawar-galad_ is the secure prison he claims. If both are true, then assign guards to hold him there. See to it personally, Tauriel. Do not give him the least chance to escape again.”

Legolas didn’t like that, but I kept my expression neutral as I bowed to the king.

“As you will, My Lord. Bring the Dwarf.”

I gestured the two guards to bring Kíli away from the throne, and fell in behind them. Blessedly, Legolas stayed behind with his father. That gave me a few seconds to master my expression before we passed into busier parts of the cavern – as if I could hide what had happened to me at the wink of a warm Dwarvish eye.

 

* * *

 

 _Glawar-galad_ was not a place I had ever entered. I knew its story well enough, how long ago it had been the favorite sanctuary of King Thranduil and his cherished wife, how he had abandoned it when she had died, how it had finally fallen into disuse and disrepair as the king’s loss permeated through our realm. There had never been a decree that banned anyone from visiting it, but many felt that the loss had been too deep to be reminded of it, and had stayed away. So it was with mixed feelings that I waited behind Kíli and his guards as one of the doors into the garden was opened. I stepped in behind them, braced for a sad display of dead plants decaying in the dark. But a blaze of light greeted us, and burgeoning green. The wide cavern soared high above, and flashes of bright colors – flowers – dappled the green in all directions. Despite myself, my breath caught.

“Not bad, is it?” Kíli said softly, looking around. “Starlight might be the light the Woodland Elves love best, but plants worship the sun, and when they do, they reward us with flowers.

“It’s fifty fine bronze mirrors I’ve mended to catch the light to grace this place,” he continued as we looked around. “I’ve got them polished pretty well, but a bit of jeweler’s emery would bring them right back to snuff. I’ve got most of the fittings back to snuff, too, but for the ones that need a smith’s hand. I could do that for you with the proper tools, but if an anvil and bellows and a hammer in a Dwarf’s hands frighten you, I can tell your Elvish smiths what needs doing. Or if you don’t have any smiths of your own, you can send to Lord Elrond in Rivendell for help. I met them on my way here, and they know what they’re about, I can tell you.”

I pressed my hands to my mouth, trying to hold back what would be hysterical laughter if I let it escape. The depths of a Dwarf’s temerity had no bounds. I swallowed once, then again before I could trust myself not to laugh. Just in time – Legolas marched up behind me. When I turned to him, his face was thunderous with anger, and he carried a set of leg irons. I wanted to strangle him with them.

“By the king’s order,” Legolas snarled as he thrust the shackles at me. He never met my eyes, instead reserving his fury for Kíli.

“My Lord Legolas,” I murmured, bowing my head briefly. I handed the shackles to Gerrilun, who bent to lock them around Kíli’s ankles with a sneer. I hated my entire race at that moment, and only barely held silence as Legolas turned on his heel and stamped back the way he’d come.

“Free his hands,” I snapped at Gerrilun. The wretch did so, stripping the cords off roughly enough to leave Kíli’s wrists bloody. “Now, check the mirrors as the king ordered. Report to me when you have surveyed them all.”

“But the Dwarf – ” Gerrilun began.

“Is safe enough with me.” I drew one of my knives to emphasize my order, and Gerrilun and Fensilan took themselves away with my silent curse at their heels.

“I hope you aren’t going to be so sharp with me,” Kíli said softly. Against all odds, an irrepressible smile was on his face. He flicked me a glance, and his smile widened.

I sheathed my knife. “I’m sorry about the shackles. I would not have insulted you so.”

He shrugged. “They don’t change how happy I am to see you again.”

My breath caught, and my cheeks felt so warm that I looked away. “Did you truly come here as you told the king?”

When Kíli didn’t answer, I looked back at him. He still smiled. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Laughing ruefully, he spread his hands. “I didn’t have a choice, Tauriel. I jumped after my companions, I got caught under the waterfall, and it spat me into this place rather than down the river. I fell thirty feet, hit the water so hard that it knocked me out, and only just dragged myself out before I drowned. Of course, I have to thank you for that.”

“Me? For you almost drowning?”

“No; for shooting that Orc that almost shot me. If you hadn’t ruined his aim, I likely wouldn’t have survived the fall. Even if I had, his poisoned arrow would have killed me within a few days.” He put his hand over his heart and bowed. “I thank you for my life.”

I managed to nod in acknowledgement. “You are welcome.”

“How long have I been here, Tauriel? The days have blurred so badly that it must be weeks. What’s happened outside? Do you know if my brother survived? Do you know where he is now?”

I stared at the Dwarf in confusion. “Surely you know that it has been only a day since you plunged into the river.”

Now it was Kíli who stared at me with wide eyes. “Only a day? But it can’t be. It can’t be just a single day, Tauriel. I’ve been here for months, if not longer. How else could I have worked on all the mirrors, cleaned all the borders...”

“Maybe you tell such a tale to confuse us, and you really are a spy.”

He stiffened in affront. “I’m not lying. I would never lie to you. But if you don’t believe me, then go around to all the mirrors and see for yourself. I can tell you exactly where each one is, how long it’ll take you to reach each one – which is a lot longer than a day, so don’t expect your two Elvish guardsmen to be back here anytime soon – and exactly what I’ve done to each one. Count how many of the garden borders are clear and growing. Then come back here and tell me you think I’ve told you a lie.”

I looked around the cavern with awe. “It is true, then. _Glawar-galad_ means Reflected Sunlight in the Common Tongue. It’s said that this place is a timeless place – or at the very least, that time passes differently here than elsewhere. I have never been here, so I didn’t believe it until now. So I believe you.”

“It’s a magic garden, then. Would you let me show you around?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

We walked together slowly, the occasion marred only by the rattle and clank of Kíli’s shackles. He explained the mirrors most knowledgeably and the way they focused the light, and how the Dwarves had perfected the polishing technique to light their own underground cities. He didn’t know as much about the plants, but he had a good eye for color and form and design, and the arrangements he had made were pleasing. It was clear how much work he’d done, and with a will. After a while, though Kíli’s confident patter faltered, and he regarded me with concern.

“Why do you frown, Tauriel? It wasn’t my intention to displease you.”

“Why did you do this, Kíli? In a place that belongs to a people who have imprisoned you, mistrusted you...”

“Don’t forget nearly drowning me, too,” he teased, but I could not laugh with him.

“I do not joke, Kíli. Tell me the truth. Why did you do this?”

“I’ll show you.”

He took my hand. The touch of his fingers on mine was a shock, so unexpected, yet so inevitable. I curled my fingers around his, and let him lead me as he would. In deference to the shackles that hobbled him, we went slowly to a blank part of the cavern wall. The stone had been smoothed and carved with runes, but they must be Dwarvish runes, for I couldn’t read them.

“If you know something of runes, you know those are Dwarvish, not something any Elf would carve. If you know something of stonework, you know how long it takes to carve runes into limestone. That bit took me nearly a week because I don’t have proper tools.”

I shook my head. “I cannot read them.”

Kíli stepped forward to trace his finger over the carving. “I’ll read them to you. They say, ‘In the year 2941 of the Third Age, Kíli son of Dis of the Dwarves of Erebor returned the light to this place, in honor of Lady Tauriel of the Woodland Realm who saved his life. Thus may Elves and Dwarves remember when they worked hand in hand to bring beauty to the world.’ ”

I shut my eyes against that soft voice, all but drowned out by the pounding of my heart. But a step behind me forced me to ignore both. Gerrilun and Fensilan were back, babbling about polished mirrors and weeded gardens and locked doorways and needed surveys.

“Then tell the king that the Dwarf will remain here to await his pleasure,” I snapped, wanting only to be rid of both of them. I let my breath escape in a slow stream as they retreated.

“That sounds dire,” Kíli murmured, glancing at me with a pained expression. “I’m not partial to pleasure with another male, regardless of race, you know. I hope your king isn’t, either.”

The depth of Dwarvish cheek knew no bounds! I almost laughed, and almost managed a serious expression. “I would not know how he takes his pleasure, but I do not think it is with Dwarves of either sex.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Though if another Elf wanted to have her way with me, I’d quite look forward to it. I do hope it’s males who attract you – not to put too fine a point on it, I hope it’s a certain Dwarf male who attracts you. For you certainly attract me.”

I gasped – but not before that rising tide in my heart crested, and I was well and truly lost. I would lose what little control I had over myself if I stayed near Kíli, so I retreated back towards the door as fast as I could.

“All right, all right, you’ve dragged it out of me. You don’t have to keep torturing me, Tauriel; I’ll tell you. All you have to do is turn around, and I’ll tell you everything.”

What was it that made me stop? Worse, what was it that made me turn around to face Kíli? He stood with his hands outstretched, and he didn’t smile, for all his half-mocking words. But it wasn’t me he mocked – it was himself, for the expression on his face was as hungry as what was in my heart. Oh, Blessed Valar, was he as helpless as I?

“I’ll tell you everything, Tauriel. How you took my heart the first time I saw you because of the way you wielded those elegant knives of yours to save my life. How you’ve held my heart more securely than any prison ever since the night you told me about starlight and moonlight. How I lost all hope of escaping you when you saved my life a second time, when you kept an Orc from killing me. How my heart threatened to burst when I turned around in the throne room and saw you again. The least I can do for the fiery maid who holds my heart so completely is to give her the gift of sunlight in this garden, so that she thinks more kindly of me than her king does.”

I shut my eyes against that plea. I don’t know how I kept my feet, didn’t sob, didn’t run. When I opened my eyes, Kíli was before me. He took my hands.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, Tauriel. I know how I feel. The merest thought of you makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt in my life. I want you to know that now, because I don’t know how long I have before your king kills me, or lets me go, or dooms me to your deepest dungeon. I don’t want to face any of those knowing I should have told you how I felt beforehand.”

With a convulsive swallow, I forced myself to look into his eyes. They were beautiful, like the rest of him. What was I about to do to both of us?

“Kíli. ” I knelt with his hands in mine, my gaze on his. I put my lips close to his ear, but couldn’t bring myself to kiss it as I wanted to. “I am glad you are alive.”

Then I did kiss his cheek. His beard was soft, strange, tickling my lips. The sensation was more than I could bear. I swallowed hard, and got to my feet. I had to flee.

“Tauriel, please. Will you come back?” he called after me. “Please.”

I looked back, memorizing his face. “I will come back.”

What had I done?

 

* * *

 

I fled _Glawar-galad_ so overwhelmed that I didn’t come to myself until I was back in the guardroom. But there were too many faces there, too many faces I couldn’t face, so I ran to the necessary and locked the door behind me. I grabbed a towel and stuffed half of it in my mouth so that no one would hear me wail. I was in love with a Dwarf, an alien, an enemy, an intruder, and I was a traitor to my people, to my king, to myself –

My heart said otherwise, and slammed down my objections with the force of a battering ram. All I saw were _ancalima hendi_ – the brightest of eyes – dark Dwarfish eyes full of sunlight, fiercely alive like no Elf’s cool eyes ever were. The way he moved, the earthy smell of him, the brave way he met Elvish disdain with the brashness of the young –

Blessed Valar, stop this, don’t let me feel this; don’t let me love him. Don’t let me love him!

But all my beseeching did was strengthen the ache in my bones, the pain in my heart that was no longer hollowness but yearning. My stomach heaved, and for the first time in my life – maybe any Elf’s life – I spewed. Dizzy, I crumpled to the stone floor, curling in on myself. What had happened to me? Elves don’t sicken. Never. We can die of poison, of wounds, but not any disease born of Man, Dwarf, Orc, Goblin –

We can die of grief. I was killing myself because I loved a Dwarf and not an Elf.

A tentative knock rapped on the door. I froze.

“Tauriel? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I snapped. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

I got to my feet. My reflection in the wall mirror was pale, almost corpse white. I forced air in and out of my lungs until my trembling stopped. I was not about to die, and I would not let anyone find me out. I washed the traces of my madness down the receptacle. I straightened my hair and my clothes, and splashed a little water on my face. I pinched my cheeks to bring the blood back to them. Then I opened the door.

Jelladin blanched when I appeared. “T-T-Tauriel? Are you all right?”

“Ask the smiths to send me someone familiar with bronze casting. I want to see that someone as soon as he can get here.”

She ran off to deliver my message. Time seemed to drag while I waited. I tried to focus on scouting rotations, duty rosters, requisitions, but the runes blurred before me as my body implored me to run back to the cavern. After an eternity that was less than an hour, Jelladin showed two smiths into the guardroom.

“Thank you, Jelladin,” I nodded to the guardswoman, and she left the smiths with me. “I thank you for coming so quickly, sirs.”

“Marleas and Finsir,” the elder of the two indicated himself and his companion. “What can the smiths do for the guard, Captain Tauriel?”

I explained. The two exchanged dubious looks, but didn’t refuse me outright. So I ordered a pair of guardsmen to follow the three of us, and led the way to the door leading to the _Glawar_ - _galad_.

I was gratified to hear all of my companions exclaim at the surprising vibrancy of the cavern garden. If anything, it was even lusher than it had been just an hour ago. I didn’t know where Kíli was, but led the group forward in hopes that he’d see us and come forward.

There he was, scrambling to his feet awkwardly because the shackles hobbled him. His face was wreathed with a wide smile when he saw me, and my body felt light enough to fly in response. He hurried towards me.

“My Lady Tauriel.” He bowed with his hand on his heart. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

“Kíli,” I replied. He was visibly thinner, almost cadaverous, and his skin was ashy. “You are pale despite the sun. Are you sick?”

He grimaced. “To me, several days have passed since you last were here.”

“Meaning what?”

He glanced at the four Elves with me before gesturing me towards him. The guards started to follow me, but I waved them back. When I was beside him, I bent down.

“There isn’t much for a Dwarf to eat here,” he whispered. “I’d been raiding your king’s larder, but I can’t do that while I wear his shackles, can I? So I’m left with eating the weeds, and they’re not very filling. I’ve had to sleep on the ground instead of someplace drier, too. Not that I’m displeased to see you for other reasons, of course.”

My jaw clenched, and I faced the guards with a glare. I pointed to Handrir. “Remove his shackles.”

“The king –”

“The king requires his prisoner to remain in good health while he awaits the king’s pleasure. The shackles prevent that. Remove them. Then speak to the cooks. I want a week’s double rations for the prisoner, with meat, within the quarter hour.”

Lessian moved behind Kíli and held his knife against the Dwarf’s spine while Handrir unlocked the shackles. Kíli held very still with his arms outstretched, but he still managed to wink at me with his usual irreverence. I wanted to laugh, but I schooled myself to remain impassive... mostly. I suspect my lips curved up a little. When the shackles were gone, the Dwarf bowed gracefully.

“I am grateful. How may I serve you in return for your kindness?”

Oh, there was no question as to what he thought about. Part of me was appalled that I found that endearing, but my head already spun with so many warring thoughts that it was just one more in the stew. I tried to cover my confusion by turning to the smiths.

“Marleas and Finsir are smiths. They are here to repair the mirrors as they need, and a map to guide them would be helpful.”

“You have no such guides in the records of your kingdom?” Kíli prodded, but I frowned, warming him not to push the others’ tolerance. “No matter,” he said easily, bowing to my silent request. “I will gladly draw you a map. There is a pavilion not far from here with a large table, if you’ve brought writing materials.”

Despite his hunger and obvious weakness, Kíli took us to the pavilion, and readily set to sketching. He had a sure hand, if prone to dashed lines, but his pictures were clear. He first drew one of the reflecting mirrors on its stand for the two smiths, and while they pondered that he drew a map that showed the positions of the mirrors throughout the cavern. He explained the details of the needed work without hesitation, and soon had the smiths deep in a back and forth exchange more common between colleagues than enemies. He kept talking even when the food arrived, though he wolfed the first several dishes down faster than thought. He truly had starved, and I thought less of the king for inflicting such punishment on him out of mere spite.

“If you bring a stone mason or two, I can point them to the places that need their skills most,” Kíli offered, once he’d taken the edge off his hunger. “I don’t claim the same level of knowledge of the plants, but if you have herbalists, I can show them beds of the ones I know. Some of them are useful medicines.”

I was touched at his offer. “I’ll relay your gracious offer to the king.”

“I don’t make the offer to your king,” he said without heat, but clear force all the same. “I make it to you, because you saved my life. It is a debt of honor to a Dwarf, and I am glad to pay it.”

Thank the Valar the smiths stared at Kíli in surprise, because my cheeks burned. I think the Dwarf’s raffish sense of humor had infected me, because I gave him an amused smile.

“I saved your life twice, as I recall.”

He bowed, but not before I spotted his delighted grin. “So you did. I am doubly in your debt.”

I refused to think about what those warm Dwarvish eyes urged me to exact from him.

“Then I shall return with masons and gardeners as soon as may be. Remember that time passes more slowly here compared to the rest of our realm, and be patient.”

“I thank you for the food. It will make the wait much more bearable.”

I escorted the smiths back to the doorway, and let them precede me. At the last moment, I looked back at Kíli. His regard was still on me, knowing I’d look back. He didn’t speak, but put his hand over his heart and held it out to me, reminding me of what I held. Did he know that he held mine?

 

* * *

 

Blessedly, I couldn’t consider my turmoil when I left the cavern. The smiths were excitedly chattering, and wanted to know if they could return as soon as they could assemble the needed tools. I agreed, and then personally set off for the healers. I had only to mention a single word to bring the most senior and his assistant back with me. I collected a pair of stonemasons, as well. When I led them to the door, the smiths were also drawing near, so I escorted the lot of them in, as well as three or four guardsmen to preserve appearances. Kíli appeared, rubbing his eyes; apparently it was the next day by the cavern’s reckoning. I sent one of the guardsmen back for enough food for several days, thinking that while Elves may not eat so much, Dwarves did, and Kíli would have his choice of provisions for a bit longer. He came willingly to the table to speak to the masons and smiths. The senior apothecary, however, was rude, and while Kíli was the face of courtesy, I led the irritating master and his assistant away to show them what Kíli had shown me. I didn’t have to endure his sniping for long, for the beds of plants soon had him deep in his craft. I knew the most common herbs, but some of the flowers were rare, and the size of the trees fascinated him. In time, after the masons and smiths left Kíli’s table to start their work, the Dwarf approached the herbalists and me.

“There’s a rare beauty of a flower just nearby,” he invited. He wanted me to himself, I thought. That matched my desire, but the herbalist snorted and muttered under his breath that a Dwarf wouldn’t know a rare flower if it ran up and kicked him in the privates, and stalked after me. I shot Kíli a look, counseling patience, only to find him eyeing me in the same way before he led us to the garden border.

The flower was beautiful, a small gem with streaks of pink and green and white, shaped like a dancing shoe, and misted from spray by the waterfall. I didn’t get to examine it closely, for the senior apothecary was on his knees with his nose almost down the throat of the delicate blossom.

“I take it that’s a good one,” Kíli murmured.

“It is quite beautiful,” I agreed, smiling. “What I could see of it.”

Kíli snorted in laughter, but quickly stifled himself. “I could look a bit farther on, if you like. Maybe I can find another one.”

He surreptitiously pulled at my hand, but I batted it away before anyone noticed. “I’ll help you look.”

We didn’t find another of the same kind, but a different one, but we’d no more than admired it for a few seconds before the master was behind us. So it went for some time, the herbalist growing more and more intent with each plant he identified. He was so intent that he forgot to snarl at Kíli, which gave me something to smile about... as if Kíli’s suppressed laughter weren’t enough on its own.

As we moved farther from the waterfall and more to the center of the cavern where the thickest beds of plants grew, the plants changed from mere ornamentals to those of a more practical use. The herbalist was beside himself when Kíli gestured to a particularly lush bed of a low-growing shrub with tiny white flowers.

“What plant is that?” Kíli asked curiously.

The apothecary was too excited to answer, but called to his assistant to chatter urgently. This was the plant that had brought the apothecary in the first place, for he hadn’t believed me when I’d told him how much of it the cavern held. I took it upon myself to explain to Kíli. “It is called _athelas_ , kingsfoil in the common tongue. It’s much valued by our healers, especially to heal poisoned wounds caused by the Orcs’ foul Morgul blades. It is rare that it grows so thickly in one place. Our healers will be grateful to have such a large supply.”

Kíli looked impressed. “I liked it because it smelled so good. Like mint, but more vigorous. Oin, the Dwarf with the ear trumpet, is an apothecary. He’d have known what it was.”

A shadow seemed to pass over Kíli’s face. I wondered if he thought of his companions, but even if I had known anything of them, I would not have told him. Kíli’s position here was still dire, and I was the only one of my people to look at him without suspicion. I would jeopardize either of us by speaking of anything that could be construed as dangerous.

After the _athelas_ , the apothecary stopped being so haughty and deigned to speak directly to Kíli in the Common Tongue. He still spoke with disdain, but Kíli ignored it and showed him the plants as best he could, asking questions if he didn’t understand so he could better lead the master. I trailed along, ostensibly as guard, but truly to savor the time with Kíli, even if we were not alone. He didn’t fall back upon Dwarvish attitude, but was the face of courtesy. At one point, he winked at me. He was on his good behavior for my sake, not that of the other Elves.

This respite went on for just an hour outside the cavern, but inside, more than four days passed. So many Elvish masters and assistants and crafters came and went that I had only seconds alone with Kíli, and even then too many others were in earshot or line of sight for either of us to say or do more than look at each other. Finally, at the end of one of the cavern’s days, as the sun fell, I shooed all of the workers out of the cavern. It was close to the evening meal in our part of the cavern, and that gave a convenient excuse to clear them away. When the last one went back through the door, I sighed in relief. I had only a few moments before I, too, would have to leave, but I wanted those few moments with Kíli.

I hurried towards the waterfall where I’d last seen the dark Dwarf. There he was, ahead of me, head down, walking slowly towards the water. Then his head came up, though he didn’t turn around. Did he hear me? I quickened my pace –

Oh, Valar, he hadn’t heard me – he’d been unlacing his shirt. He stripped it off, then his boots, and before I could call out a warning, he dropped both his trews and his smalls and waded naked into the water. I didn’t speak because I wanted to look at him before he found me out. Perhaps the lack of rations had thinned him, but he was still muscled, sleek, graceful – stocky, compared to an Elf male, but if Elvish grace was that of a deer, his was that of a hunting cat. His black hair fell in thick waves almost past his ribs, but when he shook it over his shoulders, I saw how it grew down from his nape in a ridge, like a mane. His arms and legs were shorter than an Elf’s, but well proportioned to his body. Why did that body so captivate me, as foreign as it was? Why did I want to touch him –

He stiffened, and whirled to face me. His face spasmed in shock, and he ducked down into the water until his hips and legs – and other parts – were under water.

 “Tauriel! By the Valar, maid, give a Dwarf some warning!”

My face flooded with heat. He had to see the want in my eyes. I stuttered to a stop, my hands curling into fists because I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“I – I’m sorry,” I stammered, but I wasn’t. I didn’t look away, because I wanted to see what I yearned for, no matter the insanity of it. A foot shorter than me, yes, but tall for a Dwarf, with that beautiful black hair falling in his eyes and over his shoulders and down his chest, disarrayed as if he’d just risen from a marriage bed. His slight beard accentuated his high cheekbones and pointed chin, which were almost as attenuated as an Elf’s. His chest was velvety with the same dark hair, only emphasizing the powerful muscles beneath his skin. And what skin – pale against the dark hair and eyes, glowing with life. My body tensed, and I had to look away because I now knew why no Elf male had ever drawn me. They were too cold, too remote, too languid compared to Kíli’s fire. I tried to swallow my want away, but it refused to go. “I’ll... wait by the pavilion until you’ve washed.”

“All right,” he replied nervously. But as I forced myself away, he said, “Toss me the soap, would you?”

I looked anywhere except at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him point to his clothes. “It’s there.”

I stooped by the pile. Sweet Valar, I could smell him on the cloth, that rich, exotic scent of spices. I hurried through them, trying not to breathe. When I found the soap – pilfered Elvish soap, which made me smile – I held it up. “I have it.”

“Toss it here, then.”

I lobbed it, but whether by accident or intent, it went a bit higher than I meant, and Kíli had to reach for it. I shut my eyes and marched myself away before I saw more than I could contain. He called a garbled thank you after me, which I didn’t answer. I kept going until I reached one of the pavilions. With relief, I sank down on the nearest bench, leaned back against the stone backrest, and put my hands over my mouth so Kíli wouldn’t hear me groan. I prayed that he took long enough to wash that I could take myself in hand. I shut my eyes, and thought of nothing but breathing. Normal, regular breathing. And nothing else. Nothing.

In a few moments, I was calmer, and just in time, for steps padded behind me. I kept my back to them.

“Don’t turn around.”

I straightened. “Why not?”

“Because I was in such a hurry to see you that I forgot to put my shirt on.”

I turned slowly, but kept my gaze up until I saw Kíli’s face in the corner of my eye. He was smiling, daring me, so I looked lower. His chest was bare, and still damp. He was close enough that I felt his body heat. When I didn’t look away, he sniffed noisily and narrowed the gaze of those beautiful dark eyes on me.

“All right, have a look. But don’t look down. I forgot to put my trews back on, too. In fact, I’m quite naked.”

The dare in his voice and the way he leaned against the back of the bench matched the dare in my heart, so I did look down – only to find trews and boots in place. I had to admit that I was both relieved and disappointed, and I was so exasperated at myself that I muttered a curse worthy of a guardsman. He laughed, reading everything I’d felt, and liking all of it.

“Oh, you like a forward lad, do you?” he teased. He straightened and put his hand on his belt buckle. “Give me a moment, then –”

I covered his hand with mine. “You’ve had your joke. I hope you enjoyed it.”

He caught my hand between his, and leaned forward to brush a kiss on my lips. It was a quick, light caress, more tease than anything else, but soft and sweet. “I did. This, too. Wouldn’t you like to kiss me back? Just to see what it’s like?”

Oh, Valar, that was exactly what I wanted. I inhaled, savoring his scent and my anticipation. “I think I would.”

So I kissed him back, not quickly, not lightly, and savored it without resistance. No matter what came after this, if all we ever did was share just this one kiss, our hearts were one, and a piece of that one heart beat in each of us. I let his warmth, his scent, and the touch of his lips on mine fill me. I’d never be hollow again, even if this was the only touch we’d ever share.

When the kiss ended, it was as if I’d forgotten how to breathe. I thought Kíli was just as overwhelmed, for his eyes were shut as he eased away. He pulled his shirt back on, as if our intensity had become more than he could control. He looked askance at me, then when I didn’t flinch away, met my eyes straightly.

“Well?” he murmured.

I smoothed his hair out of his eyes. It was soft, and he leaned into my touch with a soundless sigh. “It was nice.”

“It was. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I thank you, too.”

He traced a finger down my cheekbone, his eyes warm and beckoning. “I’ve got a bottle of wine left, and some food. The stars will be out soon. You can see them from one of the gardens, Tauriel. Come see them with me.”

How I wanted to see them with him – how I wanted more than that! But I alone stood between Kíli and the king, and it would not bode well if I were found in anything compromising with him. The pain of having to refuse him was awful. “I’m still on duty. I held back to thank you for how generous you’ve been. The smiths and masons see it, and even the herbalists are pleased. You didn’t have to do any of it.”

He took my hands. “I did it for you, Tauriel. That’s all. It’s my gift to you.”

Hearing him say it hammered home what an impossible a position I’d put myself in. I winced to reply, but I owed Kíli the truth. “I didn’t want to love you, Kíli. I didn’t. But I do. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

I drew him closer for another kiss, this one full of despair and want. Then I turned and left him at the table, stifling tears as I ran for the door. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.

 

* * *

 

I fled through the door of the cavern and headed for the guardroom. The usual evening bustle flowed around me as Elves went to and fro, some intent on finding supper, others streaming on or off duty. I was still subduing my racing emotions, so it took some moments before I sensed the tense, nervous atmosphere that swirled among the guardsmen. When I rushed into the guardroom, my arrival exacerbated the already apprehensive mood.

“Is something wrong?” I asked sharply to no one in particular. That further hiked the tension, and nervous looks went back and forth among my comrades.

“The scouts from Laketown came back just a few moments ago. They report to the king and prince at the Antlered Throne.”

I turned on my heel and headed there. I hoped this had nothing to do with Kíli’s companions.

Halfway there I heard King Thranduil’s shouts. The scout’s voices were subdued, but they had not drawn the king’s anger – what they’d told him had.

“My Lord Thranduil, My Lord Legolas,” I bowed smoothly, approaching the throne as if I belonged there. “I just heard that the scouts have returned.”

“Those cursed Dwarves march upon Erebor as we speak!” the king shouted. He paced back and forth before the throne like an enraged hunting cat that had had its prey snatched away. “The Men of Laketown were glad to supply them and send them across the lake to make their way into the mountain!”

“You are sure of this?” I asked the nearest scout, swallowing when he nodded. I looked back at the king and his son. “They cannot simply march into Erebor, My Lord. Smaug will not take kindly to any attempt to remove him from his hoard.”

I looked back at the scouts. “How were the Dwarves equipped? Did they carry a wind lance? Any unusual weapons?”

“No, Captain. A few swords and pikes and bows only.”

I looked back at the king again. “So unless the Dwarves find something inside Erebor, they have nothing capable of slaying a dragon of any size, much less Smaug.”

“That is my judgment, too,” Legolas added, but he watched his father closely.

“The scouts also report that the Dwarves are in mourning for one of their own,” the king said. He skewered me with his cold stare. “They mourn the youngest sister’s son of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Legolas blinked. “The Dwarf in _Glawar-galad_.”

“So it would seem,” the king resumed his pacing. He was so incensed that my mouth went dry. “His offer of help to restore our garden is not the altruistic gift it first appeared to be.”

A lump clogged my throat. “My Lord?”

The king’s gaze stabbed me again. “He is in line for the throne of Erebor, is he not? And should his uncle carry the day against the dragon, what tale will his sister’s son carry about the service he did for the Woodland Realm? He seeks to indebt us to his uncle with his self-serving offer! Perhaps he hopes even to void our claim to the white gems owed to us!”

Legolas was only half convinced, but his frown didn’t encourage me. I held my hands out to the king. “My Lord, the Dwarf laboring in _Glawar-galad_ is young and inexperienced. He has spent his entire life as a wandering tradesman. He doesn’t have the wisdom to plot as you fear.”

“His uncle does!” the king spat. “I offered Thorin Oakenshield my help if he but honored the old agreement for the white gems, and he cursed me for it! He would think nothing of tasking his sister’s son to negate that agreement!”

He flung himself onto the throne. I was afraid to move. I cut my eyes to Legolas, and while he might not believe the king’s fears were valid, he didn’t like Kíli for the most obvious of reasons – Kíli was a rival for my affections, and if he could remove that rival, I thought even the honorable prince might be tempted. If only I could tell Legolas that it was too late for me to ever return whatever affection he felt for me –

“I want the Dwarf executed,” King Thranduil said. “The Dwarves think he is dead. So I shall see that he is.”

I gasped audibly, drawing the scouts, the prince, and the king to stare at me. “M-M-My Lord, think of the consequences. Would we not have a better chance to negotiate with the Dwarves, if they prevail, if we can return their prince to them, with a tale of good treatment and an offer of collaboration?”

“I will not allow our people to be indebted to Thorin Oakenshield!”

“But... My Lord... our laws are firm on the treatment of prisoners. We allow them an appeal –”

“Not another word!” King Thranduil snarled, leaning forward. “I want the Dwarf executed within the hour! See to it!”

I didn’t wait for dismissal. I turned tail and ran. Legolas ran after me, but I sped up and fled through the halls and passages as if Orcs pursued me. I burst through the door into _Glawar-galad_ and raced over the paths among the trees and flowers.

“Kíli!” I screamed. “Kíli!”

He ran towards me, catching my hands when I skittered to a stop. “What’s happened?”

My hands tightened hard on his. “Hide, Kíli. Find the deepest part of the cavern, and stay hidden. Don’t let them find you. You have only a few moments. I’ll do what I can, but you have to stay out of their hands long enough for me to do anything. Go!”

“Kiss me,” he begged.

“Kíli, go! Please go!”

He wouldn’t let my hands go. “Kiss me, first. Give me that much!”

I did, but I was too desperate to linger over it. “Now go!”

I ran back towards the door. What was I going to do when the assassins came after Kíli? If I killed them, then my life was forfeit just as Kíli’s was. I had no time to consider, for towards me ran three of the guard, all of them unsheathing swords and knives.

“Stop!” I shouted in my loudest drill voice, but they didn’t slow. “You cannot kill the Dwarf without committing murder, Lianeth! You have no right!”

Kíli pounded up behind me. He pressed his hand on my back before dancing away.

“Don’t hurt her!” he shouted, holding his hands wide. “If you want me, have at, but leave Tauriel out of it! Your quarrel is with me, not her!”

“No, Kíli!” I stayed between the three guardsmen and him. “No one murders a prisoner on my watch! Our laws require an appeal, and to break that law is dishonorable, unworthy of an Elf. Stand down, Lianeth! Stand down now!”

“You are the one to stand down, Tauriel. The king has ordered this, and if you defy us, you’ll suffer the same punishment as the Dwarf!”

I drew my knives, and crouched for the rush that would come. “I’d like to see you try, Lianeth.”

“Give me a dagger!” Kíli begged, not for the first time. “Quick! Give me a dagger!”

This time, I didn’t refuse him, but spun one of my blades to him, my eyes never leaving the three guardsmen against us.

Kíli and I separated so that the guardsmen were forced to choose between two targets. Lianeth charged at Kíli, thinking a shorter opponent was an easier opponent, but he lasted only seconds. Kíli dodged nimbly under Lianeth’s guard, kicked him off his feet, and cracked the hilt of my knife against his skull. Then he waded into the two Elves arrayed against me with a roar. His furious assault was enough to throw them off their form so that I smacked Beliath out of his senses with an elbow. Gelian sliced my upper arm with his knife, drawing my curse, but he fled when Kíli and I charged him head on, both of us howling. Lianeth and Gelian picked each other up to pelt after Beliath. We ran after them to make sure they fled the cavern.

I grabbed Kíli’s arm. “Stay here, Kíli. Hide. I’ll do what I can to stop this. Stay hidden for me.”

I intended to run after the three guardsmen, but Kíli wouldn’t let me free my arm. “I don’t want to lose you, Tauriel.”

I smiled at him. “And I don’t want to lose you, either, Kíli. Hide, and wait for me.”

“Take your dagger.”

“You may need it. Stay hidden.”

I ran for the door, but the stone under my feet trembled, throwing me off balance. The rock shook again, and a deep rumble echoed throughout the cavern. It was impossible to move either forward or back as the rock bucked under my feet. Again and again it shook, each time with more violence, the stone shifting so unevenly under my feet that I fell. I scrabbled to my hands and knees, trying to crawl away from the cavern wall, but the rock above the door shattered, and chunks of the cavern rained down. My ankle broke under the assault, and I screamed until a block knocked my breath from me. More and more rocks fell, and I was trapped underneath them –

Yet another rock snapped the bones in my arm, and pain carried me into darkness.

 

* * *

 

“Tauriel...”

I drifted on pain. Did someone call my name?

“Tauriel!”

That _was_ my name, I decided hazily, but I was too dazed to answer. I let the voice drift off into the blackness.

“Tauriel! Open your eyes! Tauriel, listen to me. Open your eyes!”

The voice was so insistent that I forced my eyes open. Green reeled above me in such a dizzying blur, hazy and unidentifiable, that I had to shut my eyes again.

“Tauriel. Open your eyes. You’re hurt, Tauriel, but I’m binding your wounds. Lie still!”

Hurt? That would explain the pain that engulfed me. There was so much of it that I couldn’t tell where it came from. I lay still as the voice had begged me while hands yanked and pulled my limbs.

The cavern. Kíli. King Thranduil’s assassins. The green haze shuddered into focus, and I knew where I was. I spasmed. I had to get up before one of those assassins stabbed me –

A hand pressed against my chest. “Lie still. It’s Kíli, Tauriel. You have to lie still until I bind your wounds. Then I’ll take you someplace safer. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” My voice sounded dazed, even to me. I found Kíli’s face above me, tight and worried. He stroked my cheek in reassurance.

“Good. Lie still while I finish binding your wounds.”

I watched Kíli through slitted eyes as he worked, his hands moving surely over me, but with urgency. He caught me watching, and spared a quick smile.

 “I’m sorry to be so rough,” he said as he bound a stick to my arm so tightly that I grimaced. “I’ll make a better job if it soon. But I have to get us to a safe place first.”

“Do what you need to do.”

He bent over bandages swathing my right arm. That was where Gelian’s knife had sliced me. It burned. My left arm and leg throbbed – broken bones.

Kíli met my eyes. “I’ll carry you to the table, and you’ll sit atop it for just a moment, just until I can get you on my back so we can get away from here. Can you do that, Tauriel?”

I managed a single nod.

“Good. Here we go, then.”

Kíli picked me up without effort and carried me to one of the pavilion tables. He sat me carefully atop the stone, and stripped off the remains of his shirt. Gnawing at the seams, he managed to tear two wide strips from the tough fabric.

“I’ll tie you to my back. Both of your arms are hurt, so you can’t hold onto me.”

I tried to nod, but cold had seeped into my bones, and my vision went grey. I must have slumped, because Kíli grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

“Tauriel. Look at me. Hold on for just a few moments, just until I can get you to my haven. Look at me, _amr_ _âlim_ _ê_. Keep looking at me.”

I frowned in confusion. I couldn’t focus on Kíli’s face, but I tried. What had he said? “ _Amrâlimê_... I don’t know what that means.”

From far away, I felt fingers against my cheek. “Yes, you do. Now, here we go.”

All I saw were whirls of color around me, but somehow I found myself tied onto the back of a Dwarf, and lifted from the table. I slumped against him as he moved, the motion jarring my wounds, but I didn’t moan. I was too dizzy to know where I was or where we went. There was soft hair under my cheek, and under that, skin that smelled of spices.

“Where are we going?” I mumbled.

“I haven’t revealed all the treasures to be found here,” a soft voice said. Hands tightened on my thighs, and long wavy hair fell over my eyes. I shut them and drifted on the bobbing motion that cradled me. When it stopped, I forced my eyes open. Was I in a tree?

“Where am I? Is this a flet?”

“A what?”

“A flet. A tree platform.”

“No. This is just my front porch, you might say. But I have to get us through the front door, which takes some doing.”

The body supporting me jerked and flexed, then stilled.

“This will likely hurt. I’ll be as careful as I can. So forgive me ahead of time. Now brace yourself, and keep your knees up, or your legs will hit the stone floor when I jump inside.”

I didn’t understand any of that beyond getting my knees up, so I struggled to flex them. Hands helped me pull them higher.

“Hold on as best you can, Tauriel. I’m going to jump inside now.”

“You’re going to jump inside wha – oh!”

The body holding me sprinted three steps and flung itself into the air. I tried to keep my knees bent, but the jarring impact of landing sent pain shooting through me so badly that I shrieked. My vision went even greyer. When it cleared, I was lying flat on a bedding pad.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” a voice repeated. Who was with me? Where was I? “That’s the worst of it, Tauriel, I promise. You can rest now. Just lie still. Here, let me light the lamp.”

The dim flame didn’t tell me where I was, but I recognized my companion.

“Kíli.”

He stroked my hair. “I’m here. We’re safe for the moment.”

“How badly am I hurt?”

“Your right arm is badly slashed above the elbow, I expect from one of the Elves who attacked us. I’ve packed it with _athelas_ and bound it. Your left arm and left ankle were broken when the rocks fell. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

I felt broken all over, but I shook my head. The motion made me dizzy.

“Yes, you do; you don’t have to be a Dwarf about it. I’m not a bad field medic, you know. I’ve been trained by the best.”

I wondered who that was.

“Master Dwalin. The one who cursed so much, remember? With the tattoos? A fiercer Dwarf you’ll never meet, but he’s the one to have your back in a fight, and the one to put you back together afterwards. Here, let me unfasten your cuirass, _amrâlimê_. You’ll breathe easier for it.”

Gentle hands eased off my cuirass, vambraces, and greaves, then resettled my splints. My slashed arm was next. Kíli bathed it in wine, and began to stitch it carefully. It hurt, so I asked where we were to distract myself. He answered at length, but the words drifted by before I understood any of them. I smelled _athelas_. Maybe it was what eased the pain of my arm.

“What else do I need to tend?”

That was brief enough that I understood it. Yet if I had other injuries, I didn’t feel them over the cold in my bones that dulled all feeling, slowed all thought. When I shivered, soft folds of blanket fell over me.

“You’re going into shock, Tauriel. At least I think you are. I don’t know how Elves react when they’re hurt. If you were a Dwarf, you’d need to lie still and stay warm.”

Still and warm... yes that was right. Maybe I said so.

Another blanket tucked around me. “I’ve got lots of these, and it stays warm in here at night. Rest now.”

As he bent over me, I felt his warmth, and reached out to it. What had he called me?

“ _Amrâlimê_.”

What did that mean? It sounded like something precious....

 

* * *

 

I drifted in dreams, strange and surreal. Snippets of long ago when my parents had held me in their arms, a warmth and intimacy I’d not felt again in the five hundred years since their deaths. Others of dark warmth and the smell of unfamiliar, exotic spices. Raging flurries of longing, hopelessness... quick glints of gold... the shrieks of Orcs... the sound of water, pounding on rocks like hammers... drifts of ice and snow, jagged peaks of them, like the teeth of monsters, and rocks that rose up from the roots of the mountains to go to war...

The cold grew so intense that I thought my body would shatter. I shrieked and tried to crawl away from it, but it weighed me down like frozen chains...

“It’s me, Tauriel. It’s Kíli. Don’t be afraid.”

Kíli? What was Kíli? My heart broke its rhythm, making me gasp. I floundered...

“Lie still, Tauriel. You’ve been hurt. Don’t disturb your wounds.”

That voice was warm. I reached for it, because I was colder than life could endure. So terribly cold. Then warmth cradled me, forcing the cold away. My dreams calmed, and I drifted again...

“I’m sorry to rouse you, Tauriel. I don’t know what you need to heal other than warmth. Do you need food? Water?”

I understood now. I’d been hurt badly enough that my body had retreated into deep healing. All the Eldar needed while the healing worked was a little water, warmth, and stillness.

“I have to get up for the water. And I have to eat so I can keep you warm. I’ll be quick.”

The warmth at my back cooled, but it had promised to return, so I took solace in the blankets about me. I was in a dim place. Perhaps I’d been taken back to my rooms to recover. I shut my eyes again, and tried not to shiver when the cold returned. The warmth would come back... yes, it cradled me, flowing into my bones like silver light, easing my tremors. A cup was at my lips. I swallowed once, twice, thrice. The fresh tang of _athelas_ was in the air, in the water, warming me further.

What was _amrâlimê_? Someone had called me that... a dark Dwarf who smelled like spices and smiled like sunlight. He swirled in and out of my dreams, even the scenes of war, but he was there to give me hope. As if I’d summoned him, his face rose in my thoughts. I wondered if all Dwarves were this warm, or only this one.

A soft voice murmured, but it didn’t matter that I didn’t understand his words. I was warm, and healing.

 

* * *

 

My dreams faded, my body roused, and I let my thoughts find their way back quietly. I breathed deeply –

A hand caressed my shoulder with intimate familiarity, shocking me back to alertness. My head was pillowed on an arm, an arm attached to a hand with fingers entwined in my hair. A chest pressed against my back rose and fell, breathing.

Who by the stars had presumed – !

I kicked out with a curse, drawing a loud yelp. I rolled over to shove the interloper away –

Why were sticks bound to my arm? And to my leg?

Someone had forced himself on me while I was wounded?

I shoved hard, and the intruder fell over the side of the bed in a flurry of arms and legs. He hit hard, cursing when his head cracked on the floor. An outraged face peered over the edge of the sleeping pad –

– and just as quickly retreated to the far wall. It was a Dwarf, by all the Valar held dear, a dark Dwarf naked but for smalls –

“Bloody stars, what did you do that for?”

Oh, by the Valar – it was Kíli. I’d shoved poor Kíli out of bed and onto his head.

What had given him the right to be in my sickbed – no, worse than that! This was not a sickbed that I lay in –

“You must feel better if you’ve got the spirit to clout me out of bed,” he growled, rubbing the back of his head. “I hope you do feel better, though I can’t say I like the way you show it.”

“What am I doing in a _caimasan_ _veste_ ,” I snarled, “and why are you here with me?”

“A what?”

“Here! This is a marriage chamber! A place for partnering!”

He blanched. “Oh, by the Valar – I didn’t know, Tauriel. I didn’t know! This is just the place I found to hide, that’s all! When you were hurt, I brought you here to keep you safe!”

“You were in a marriage bed with me! Where are the rest of my clothes? What were you doing?”

He stiffened in affront. “I was sleeping,” he said curtly. “So were you, until you decided to kick me.”

I glared at him. “Elves don’t sleep!”

He glared back. “Everybody sleeps!”

“ _Elves_ don’t!” I smacked the bed angrily. “We are not Dwarves or Men or anyone else! We are the Eldar, and we take our rest from the starlight!”

His expression was surly. “How was I supposed to know that? I’ve never met a bloody Elf before, have I, so why would I think you don’t do something the way every other race does?”

I snorted. No one was that ignorant about Elves... were they?

“You _did_ sleep, Tauriel, or at least that’s what I thought you did,” Kíli said with less heat. “You were injured; do you remember? Quite badly, as a matter of fact, and you told me that you needed to stay warm while you healed. So when all my blankets didn’t warm you enough, I held you for three days. And did nothing else.”

I shut my eyes. He was right, of course. I didn’t know until now, but it had been he who had watched over me, kept me warm, brought me water while I healed, and he hadn’t touched me with anything other than concern. I was a fool.

“I remember. I’m sorry, Kíli. I am.”

“You ought to be. I landed on my head. I’ve got a knot the size of an egg on the back of it.”

“I’m very sorry.”

He snorted again. “Well. How are you? Awake for just the moment, soon to go back into something that looks like sleep but isn’t, or ready for breakfast?”

“I won’t fall back into the deep healing. I’m still weak, but much better.”

“If that’s what you call weak, then I shudder to think what you’ll do to me when you’re fully healed.”

I winced. He’d been nothing but honorable, and I’d beaten him for it. My face ran hot, and I shut my eyes rather than look at him.

The bed shifted, and Kíli sat next to me. He stroked my hair, apologizing for his tone. “I’m glad you’re much better. I’ve worried myself to a thread about you for three days.”

I was glad to see his eyes wax with their usual warmth. “I remember. You were as warm as dragon fire.”

Suddenly shy, he swallowed, and nodded at my splinted ankle. “We... ought to check your wounds.”

I straightened my leg for him to better untie the splint. He worked carefully, taking pains to be gentle as he unknotted the strips of cloth that bound the wood in place. His fingers smoothed over my skin, testing the bones underneath. The bones had knitted well, though they would need another few days to regain their old strength. Kíli bound a clean strip of cloth around my ankle for support, then repeated the process with my splinted arm. My gashed arm was as well healed as the rest, if still the unfinished red of healing skin. He picked the stitches out one at a time, and cleaned the dried blood away with water steeped with _athelas_. He filled goblets with that same infusion, and the smell and taste refreshed us both.

“Are you hungry? There’s quite a bit here.” Kíli squatted before a tray by the bed that held various dishes. He poked through them, then looked up at me curiously. “What do Elves eat for breakfast, anyway?”

I chuckled. “You don’t know what Elves eat for breakfast, either?”

“No idea,” he shrugged without embarrassment. “The Elves in Rivendell never ate much beyond a few sprigs of leaf and a dainty cake or two at any meal I saw, though their wine was quite nice. A Dwarf starves on those rations. My mother claimed that I’d eat a whole cow for breakfast if she’d let me. Which she didn’t.”

“You’ve been to Rivendell?”

He nodded solemnly, thoughtful. “A beautiful place. Ethereal. Not quite of this world. I would have liked to stay longer. Not bad hosts, those Rivendell Elves. Very different from Woodland Elves, who kick a sleeping Dwarf out of his own bed of a morning. So, green leaves, or ham and cheese?”

He was teasing me again. “I told you I was sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you let me back under the covers. It’s cold out here.”

I didn’t believe that for a moment. “No, it isn’t. Not for a hot-blooded Dwarf.”

“How do you think I stay so warm? I like lots of blankets, too.” He took up the tray of food. “I’ll bring breakfast with me.”

That bright smile, and those warm, dark eyes... I had to look away. Now that my wounds were healed, I had no reason to avoid my earlier turmoil about falling in love with a Dwarf. With him so close, wearing so little, my body wanted him. My thoughts were just as focused. I half looked at Kíli with the plate in his hands, looking at me expectantly... and before I could say no, I’d said yes.

Kíli put the tray between us and slid under the blankets gingerly. He busied himself with the food, not looking at me, so I followed suit. I ate greens, a little ham, a little cheese, a little fruit. Kíli ate a lot of everything. I had never seen anyone eat so much before, but it seemed to be his normal habit. He was not fat, by any means. In fact, he was quite lean, with strong muscles sliding under pale skin like steel under velvet. My face grew hot again.

“Much better,” he sighed, and drained the rest of his water. “I’m ready to be your furnace for another bit now. Are you done with breakfast?”

At my nod, he returned the platter to the table by the bed, and arranged himself against the pillows. He was so close, glowing with life as no Elf did. He caught me looking at him and tensed.

“What is it, Tauriel? Do your wounds hurt? Is something not right?”

“You saved my life.”

“Just the once. You’re still one ahead of me when it comes to saving lives.” He tried to shrug it off with a smile, then sobered. “I wasn’t sure I had until you woke this morning. Your healing sleep... I’ve never seen anything like it. Terrifying, because you were so still and pale. I’m not even sure that I had much to do with healing you, to be honest. You did most of it yourself.”

“You dug me out of the rubble, and you bandaged my wounds. If you hadn’t straightened my bones, they might well have healed crooked. Or I might have bled to death. Then you watched over me, and kept me warm. What you did was no small thing.”

He relaxed, but his smile faded again, and he looked away.

“What’s wrong, Kíli?”

He laughed as if he were embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s a blessed thing to just sit next to you. You’re beautiful, like embers in a fire...”

Kíli’s heat rose in a wave, bathing me in his spicy scent. His breath caught, and he put his hands in his lap. Oh, he was no more in control than I was. “Ah.”

“How do Elves manage it?” he spoke bravely, trying to ignore how his body responded to mine. “They get into a knife fight, they tumble under rock falls, they spend three days unconscious to heal their wounds, and they come out of it still looking like a vision from the Valar.”

I didn’t resist a rueful laugh. “Ours is a colder elegance, I’m told. I have to agree, now that I’ve met a Dwarf. You’re so fiercely alive, as if every day is a gift to be savored to its fullest.”

“Each day _is_ a gift,” he replied earnestly, meeting my eyes. “Elves have so many of them; perhaps it’s easier to let them slip through your fingers. A Dwarf... I have perhaps three hundred years’ worth of them. Far fewer.”

I considered that for a long moment, knowing that what I did next would change us both, without chance of reversal. “Today is one I won’t let slip through my fingers.”

I nested in the cradle Kíli made for me with his body. He shifted around me by instinct, and his heat enveloped me the way nothing had before, the way I hadn’t thought anything could. This time, I accepted that warmth, sliding my hand over his chest to better savor it. Would he notice the difference in my touch?

His hand closed over mine and held it still.

“Kíli?”

“You... have to stop that. I can’t bear it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘hurt’.”

“Hurt means painful, yes?”

“What you’re doing isn’t painful. In fact, it feels very good. But that’s what’s painful, because I –”

I took my hand out of his, and put it back on his chest.

“Tauriel, don’t!” He stilled my hand again. Again, I freed it, and this time, I traced it lightly over his chest and down to his navel –

 “Wait – are... are you seducing me?”

I swallowed laughter. “I am _trying_ to, yes.”

“Oh.” His body flooded with so much heat that if I’d worried that he’d refuse me, now I knew better. But no – his hand caught mine again, and the desperation in his eyes was awful. He slid away from me and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me.

“Tauriel.” His voice was rough, and he hung his head. “It’s already hard enough for me to be with you. Don’t do this to me unless you mean it, unless you love me. If you just want to see whether your recovery is complete, don’t.”

Someone had teased him before, that was clear, but I would see that no one would again. I stroked his hair as he had mine, savoring how it fell over his shoulders. I slipped my fingers underneath, found the ridge of his mane, and stroked it from nape to shoulder blades. His breath caught, and he looked back at me. “It’s hard to be with you, too. I didn’t want to, because an Elf loves but once. But I do love you, Kíli, and I want whatever you and I can give each other, for as long as we’re able to. Not just today, _a'maelamin_.”

His eyes darted right, then left. “I don’t know what that means.”

I stroked his chest. “Yes, you do.”

“Yes,” he gulped. “I do. I’m honored. I’m also... Oh, Valar, I have a terrible confession to make. I’ve never been with a maid, Tauriel. Like this. I know what to do, but not what to do. I want you so badly that I can’t think, but you’re still recovering, and I don’t want to hurt you, and –”

“Kíli.” I touched his lips with a finger. “I haven’t been with anyone, either. I know what to do, but not what to do, too. And we’re... unique. So we’ll discover our own ways to do this.”

I picked up his hand. It held the strength that a smith needed, but also the dexterity of an artist, for his fingers were long and graceful. I kissed the back of it, then his temple. All at once he kissed my lips, and his awkwardness was gone as he took me in his arms. I gathered him close, and the hollow of my heart filled as we shared our delight for the first time.

When we finished, Kíli looked at me through the black hair that I loved. “Was it as good as you wanted it to be?”

I laughed. I’d heard so many Elf maids whisper about how their males asked that very question that it was a joke. But it wasn’t a joke to Kíli, so I smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

“More. Well worth waiting six hundred years for.”

“Six hun – ” He looked at me as if I were teasing. “You’re six hundred years old?”

“Six hundred and three. About your age in Elf years.”

“Ah.” He looked at me with suppressed laughter. “You don’t look a day over four hundred.”

I pulled a lock of his hair, drawing his yelp, but it hadn’t hurt. “You?”

“Seventy-seven.”

“No; was it as good as you wanted it to be, too?”

He shrugged and pretended to stifle a yawn. “Middling.”

This time I pulled his hair so much harder that his yelp had real pain in it. I sat up, and made to get out of bed. “If that’s all you can say, then I won’t stay here. You can work your wiles on another Elf maid.”

He bolted up, grabbed my shoulders, and pressed a deep kiss on my lips. “Don’t. I’ll die if you do. Because you’re the most wonderful maid in the world, and I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you ride a dead spider down a hill.”

I laughed. “I don’t think any maid has ever heard her _a’maelamin_ profess his love in such a way before.”

Chuckling, he touched his forehead to mine, and stroked my nape. “Would you rather I tell you how beautifully you wield those twin daggers of yours, then? Or should I tell you that you have hair like flames, and eyes that burn like the deepest emeralds, and a fire in your heart that I cannot resist?”

“Then I am the most gifted of maids, because not only does my _a’maelamin_ appreciate fire, he is fire himself, like the sun.”

The look on Kíli’s face... someone _had_ teased him before, and now he thought I did. I would show him otherwise. “You’ve heard this before, I’m sure; that the bright light in your eyes is like sunlight, and your hair is beautiful, like dark, watered silk. You smell delicious, like the most exotic spices. Your body is graceful and powerful like a hunting cat, and I have loved you ever since you told me about fire moons that fill the sky on a cold winter’s night.”

As I spoke, my fingers traced across his forehead, through his hair, around his ear, and down his neck to his chest. His breath caught, and his eyes shut as he reveled in my touch. He was so open with his feelings, unlike how I imagined an Elf male would be. When he opened his eyes, he regarded me with surprise, disbelief, delight, and embarrassment. I kissed him quickly.

“You _have_ heard this before. I thought so.”

He laughed. “Hardly. Dwarf maids think I’m too tall, too dark, strange hair, no beard, no pelt, high cheekbones, pointed chin... in a word, ugly.”

I grinned mischievously. “That proves that the Valar didn’t make you to please a lot of blind Dwarf maids. They made you to please me. And you do.”

Kíli stared at me hard, but I had only spoken the truth. “You... you’re sure, Tauriel? You could have anyone you wanted –”

“I do.”

He just looked at me. I took him by the shoulders and shook him.

“I told you, Kíli. Elves love but once. Other races think us cold, aloof, remote, and so we are, even among ourselves. But when the right two meet, it is not cold, aloof, or remote. It is perilous. Intense. All consuming. Final. I knew this, but I didn’t understand just how perilous it is until I tried to deny what I felt for you. It made me quite sick. All I can do is hope that you feel the same way, or it will be the end of me.”

He laughed – not at me, but in delight. The light in his eyes that so drew me sparked, and he took my face in his hands and kissed me with all the passion I could have wanted.

“Oh, _amrâlimê_.” He said it as if the word was a prayer. “Would you rather I tell you what I feel about you as an Elf would, or show you as a Dwarf would? Though I warn you – if you choose the Dwarvish way, it will take me quite a long time.”

I laid us down, eased atop him, and gloved him, grinning at his surprise. “I love a Dwarf, _a’maelamin_ , not an Elf.”

And off we went again, stoking the fire within us as hot as the sunlight in Kíli’s dark eyes, as bright as the fire of my red hair.

 

* * *

 

Kíli and I indulged ourselves for two days. To be immersed in the delight of coupling, to whisper in the dark as if we were the only lovers in the world, to tend each other as if we were jewels in the heart of a fire... all lovers should be so blessed. If I convinced Kíli of my love first, he assured me of his innumerable times after. I have never felt so cherished. Kíli coupled the way he approached all of life, with delight and enthusiasm. While I had no previous experience of Elvish lovemaking, I had certainly heard enough about it, and it was nothing like what Kíli and I conjured. The Eldar approached it commensurate to their long lives – with long forethought and consideration. I preferred the abandon of Dwarves.

All too soon, however, our predicament roused us from our delight. We were trapped in _Glawar-galad_ with King Thranduil intent on our deaths, and now that I was healed we had to find an escape.

“Tell me what happened to make King Thranduil want me dead,” Kíli asked me as we dressed for what might be battle once we left our _caimasan_ _veste_.

I grimaced. “He found out who you are, Kíli.”

“Who I am? I’m a Dwarf. Same as I was when I got here.”

“Not what. Who. You’re Thorin Oakenshield’s sister’s son. Heir to the throne of Erebor. When the king heard that, he was furious.”

Kíli frowned as I hooked the fastenings of my coat. “Fíli’s the heir, not me. I’m just the second son of my uncle’s sister, which makes me nobody, which is the way I like it. I’ve no interest in being the king of anything. Except of your heart.”

My smile was likely embarrassed. “That doesn’t matter to King Thranduil. He thought it was a great joke, to have a Dwarf brought low enough to serve him as a gardener, stripped of honor and weapons and indebted to a lowly captain of his guards.”

Kíli’s shrug was dismissive. “I did it for you, not him. I didn’t care what he thought when I worked on the mirrors and gardens, and I don’t care now.”

“King Thranduil has lived long and is steeped in the subtleties of rule –”

“He’s an arrogant snot,” Kíli interrupted roughly. “That’s what I thought the first time I saw him, and he’s done nothing to make me change my opinion. So is his son, for that matter.”

“Kíli.” I laid a calming hand on his shoulder. “King Thranduil has many things to weigh for his people, more than what you or I think –”

“He’s shut himself away in his bolt hole, and to hell with what happens to the rest of the world,” he argued. “I understand why Thorin hates him so much, though I grant you that I don’t know what your king or anyone else could have done to dispatch the firedrake sixty years ago. But he turned our people away after, and they’ve wandered homeless since while King Thranduil broods down here. He won’t even clear the vermin that infest the woods above him. How is that wise?”

Again I laid my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kíli. I am sorry for your people. But the king is not as heartless as you think he is. Part of the reason he shut us away down here is because he’s lost much of his life, too, and he doesn’t want to lose any more.”

“What did he lose?” he asked, with the arrogance of youth.

“You know that Elves love but once. He loved his wife, Legolas’ mother, beyond telling. She was lost at Gundebad in the fight against the forces of Angmar. Two-thirds of our forces were lost, as well, including the king’s father. That’s how Thranduil became king, through the loss of his father, his only love, and most of our kingdom. So he, as well as his son, knows more about losing all he held close than you think.”

Anger faded from his expression, and he kissed me in apology. “You’re right. I have a hot temper, sometimes.”

I returned his kiss. “The king, the prince, your uncle, and you all have reason for your tempers. But I’ve found that it’s usually wise to hold one’s temper in check so as to avoid ramifications that cause great distress later.”

“I can’t say I like the king getting angry enough to want me dead,” he conceded with a wry grin. “But I still don’t understand why he does. It’s just a garden. It’s not like I’ve plotted treason, or assassination.”

I buckled the harness for my knives over my coat. “If your uncle reclaims Erebor, then what you have done in in the garden puts King Thranduil in Thorin’s debt. The king does not like the thought of that at all. Your uncle... was... insulting when he and the king spoke.”

Kíli chortled. “That’s putting it mildly, I’d say. Uncle Thorin can be as insufferable as your king, and both of them would’ve tried to outdo the other in arrogance. So what do we do now?”

“Only a few moments have passed outside the cavern since I was wounded.” I sheathed my knives. “We have a little time to assess the damage to the cavern, and whether I can open one of the doors to the outside. I think that’s our best chance to get out.”

“And then?”

I looked away. “I’m sure to be banished for refusing the King’s order, though our law is on my side. Not even the king is supposed to flaunt it, but he won’t like being told that. How will your people react if you rejoin them, and I am with you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The woods are likely crawling with Orcs, and so are the lands to the west. East to Laketown is likely the safest path, and from there we can see.”

My hand strayed to Kíli’s nape, caressing his mane. I loved to stroke it, and his hum told me how much he savored my touch. “Stop, _amrâlimê_. Or I’ll undress you.”

“Then cover yourself, before sight of you drives me to undress you. Oh... your shirt. You made bandages for me out of your shirt. You don’t have anything else to wear.”

“Yes, I do.” He rummaged in a corner. “That’s why I had needle and thread to stitch your arm. I pilfered a shirt and coat from your larder, but they needed a bit of taking up here and there so I didn’t look like a bairn in a nightgown.”

Kíli held up a tunic of blue silk. He’d shortened the sleeves and the hem with credible stitches; he’d told me that one advantage of his nomadic travels was how many useful skills he’d acquired out of necessity, for what one didn’t know, one did without on the road. He’d made a more than suitable replacement for the bulkier tunic he’d turned into my bandages.

“Very elegant, for a Dwarf.” I grinned when he stuck his tongue out at me. “And the coat?”

He’d taken a dark grey suede riding coat, which suited him well even given his alterations. The Elvish garments weren’t as bulky as Dwarvish ones, and they played up his exotic looks. I nodded in approval.

“They suit you, _a’maelamin_. But you’ve lost the pin that keeps your hair out of your eyes. You can’t go into battle that way. I’ll braid it for you.”

“Dwarvish braids never hold in my hair.”

I beckoned him to turn around. “An Elvish one will. Just a twist here, and there...”

The Eldar have had thousands of years to refine personal adornment, including the dressing of hair. We have braids to identify the seasons, festivals, and time of day, among other things. While the style I twined into Kíli’s hair was simple, just drawing the hair at his temples and fastening them at the back of his head, the braid down his back had a distinctive five-part weave. I pressed a kiss on his ear. “There.”

He reached up to feel it. “What’s it look like?” When I pulled my braid forward to show him, he considered it, then me, for I was smiling. “Dwarvish braids have meanings. What does this one mean?”

“ _A’maelamin_ , of course.”

His grin was self-conscious, but pleased. “I should have made the _amrâlimê_ braid for you.”

“When we have a moment, we’ll make a pattern with pieces of both. It will be ours alone. But for now, we are elegant enough.”

“I’d trade elegance for a good bow and a quiver of arrows,” Kíli exhaled. “And a blade or two.”

“Those, I can’t give you. I have only my knives.”

“Something will turn up,” he said firmly. “I’ve packed the last of the food, and we can take a last drink at the stream.”

I rose. “Let’s hunt for a door.”

I looked around at our haven before we left. This had been our _caimasan_ _veste_ , and I was sorry to leave it. I didn’t know what lay before us – perhaps nothing but a little time. But if that was to be our fate, at least we had found happiness beforehand, and could hope that more was in store.

I cracked the door. The cavern was still empty but for us, so I leaped out with Kíli close behind.

 

* * *

 

There were few sounds when we ventured out. I took the lead as we’d agreed, looking for the Elvish doors that Kíli couldn’t see. He trailed behind me, most of his attention on the cavern as was prudent for a rear guard. I did find doors, but all of them refused to budge.

“I don’t understand. I should be able to open them. Something has happened to the cavern itself that has broken the Elvish spells on the doors.”

Kíli narrowed his gaze on the stone. “The rock has shifted. Can your king command such forces?” I shook my head. “Perhaps the tremors that caused the rock fall were the earth’s doing, then.”

“Such tremors are rare, but they do happen,” I allowed.

“So... we can’t get out by the waterfall, and we can’t get out through the doors.” Kíli considered the cavern. “Let’s risk a look at the door where you were wounded. Maybe the rock fall opened a way outside.”

We cautiously circled back. When we drew close to the rubble that blocked it, we heard the pounding of hammers and picks on the Elves’ side. Our time was short, then. Our eyes met, and my jaw tightened. “Keep watch, Kíli. I’m lighter than you, and will disturb the rocks less.”

I gave Kíli my knives, climbed atop the door, then climbed higher.

“There is a fissure. I can see the sun. But it’s very narrow.”

“Let me look. Maybe I can widen it.”

Maybe it was Dwarvish empathy with stone, or sheer strength, but Kíli soon pulled a huge piece of the cavern wall free. More followed, until he could force his head and shoulders through the hole. He beckoned me after him, and by the time I was at the fissure he had climbed out. He drew me out to stand with him atop the dome. The sun had just come over the horizon, and the air was cool and still.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked softly.

I pointed east. “Yes. Laketown is that way. We need to move quickly. There are likely Orcs about.”

“Lead on.”

I headed quickly into the forest, and set a quick pace towards the human town that perched on the edge of the lake below the ruined city of Dale. After some miles, Kíli slowed behind me.

“Tauriel.”

He pointed left. I nodded, and pointed him a bit behind where he’d heard the noise. I went a bit ahead. But it wasn’t the Orc I expected, but a nickering horse. He nosed a still form sprawled in the leaf mold – a dead Elf with a black Orcish arrow sticking from his throat. It was one of the guardsmen I had served with for many years.

“Miriallan. May the Valar honor you, my friend.” The lump in my throat was hard and dry. We’d lost so many to our enemies, but each new death was still a desecration. I glanced at Kíli, standing grim-faced beside me. “Orcs passed this way just before sunrise. At least we can take his horse, and some of his armor might fit you.”

I went to the horse, my eyes stinging. Kíli patted my back in commiseration, then knelt by Miriallan’s body. His greaves were too long to fit Kíli’s shorter legs, but his vambraces would suit. Once Kíli had strapped them to his forearms, he unfastened Miriallan’s mantle of leaf mail.

“Help me with this,” he asked, and between the two of us we got the mantle buckled over Kíli’s shoulders. It was a good fit, as his shoulders were as wide as the Elf’s. I was surprised, however, when Kíli put his hand over his heart and bowed to the dead Elf.

“I thank you, Miriallan.” He glanced at me. “Dwarvish courtesy. It’s bad luck to plunder the dead, so when need calls for a warrior to take the weapons of the dead, you offer thanks for the gift.”

I nodded. “I thank you for your courtesy.”

After Kíli settled his armor, he buckled the Elf’s bow and quiver over his coat. He also added the shorter sword, holding the longer one out to me. I buckled it on quickly.

“We must get out of the forest and around the lake quickly, Kíli. Orcs this close are an ill omen. Can you ride?”

“A pony, yes. This one’s a bit big, but I can ride pillion behind you.”

I mounted and pulled Kíli up behind me. “Are you settled?”

His body pressed tightly against me, and his arms went around my waist. Despite our situation, I felt warm at his closeness, and squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

I sent the horse ahead quickly, but not so headlong that I didn’t hear the sound of marching feet some miles on. When I stopped the horse, Kíli heard it, too. He stiffened, but slid off soundlessly at my direction. I tethered the horse and we headed up the ridge silently. When we reached the top and peered down, I was dismayed to see a huge column of Orcs in full battle dress marching towards the lake. Leading the column was an immense Orc, half again as large as those he led, and pale, almost white. His head was misshapen, bound with the rusted metal strips that served the Orcs to repair battle injuries. Rusted metal plates were embedded in his flesh as armor, streaking his pale skin with jagged trickles of black blood and angry yellow infection. I knew him well – Bolg, son of Azog the Defiler. His charge was the defense of Dol Guldur, which explained the extent of his malevolence. He was a terrifying sight. I pulled Kíli away and we fled to our horse, scrambled into the saddle, and made all speed away.

“Orcs from Gundebad,” I told Kíli. “Whether they march on Laketown or Erebor, we need to warn the people.”

“Go!”

We were destined for one more interruption of our headlong flight southeast, this one the appearance of another Elvish horse. I pulled up, for it was Legolas on his white horse.

“What is _that_ doing here?” Legolas spat, glaring at Kíli, “and why is he wearing Elvish armor?”

He’d seen the braid in Kíli’s hair, and mine, and it offended him. “There’s no time to explain, Legolas! Orcs are pouring out of Gundebad, marching on Laketown and Erebor. We’re riding there to warn them!”

Legolas’ sneer vanished. He reined his snorting horse and rode closer to us. “Gundebad? The king and our troops sit outside Erebor. Do you not know this?”

“No, she doesn’t know this,” Kíli growled. “Your father’s men attacked her, and she was badly injured in a rock fall –”

“Rock fall? The entire kingdom shook, and was no doing of the king’s, Dwarf. It was the dragon’s doing when he rose out of Erebor. Smaug burned Laketown before Bard shot him out of the sky. He is fallen, and your uncle has proclaimed himself king under the mountain! He will not treat with Bard, or my father, and Dwarves from the Iron Hills have come to support his claim. We are going to war!”

“They cannot fight!” both Kíli and I protested.

“The Orcs are coming,” Kíli went on. “Look for yourself, if you don’t believe us, if you want to waste precious time. A host of them marches closer each moment we spend arguing!”

“Bolg is at the head of the army, Legolas,” I said.

“The son of the white Orc?” Legolas confirmed, paling.

“We have to unite all our forces if we want to withstand them,” I pleaded.

“We do,” Legolas agreed, still eyeing Kíli with anger. “Because more than one army of Orcs approaches. Azog commands a second army.”

“Then we have to go!” Kíli hissed. “Or all of our people will die because we sat here arguing!”

Legolas wheeled his horse and sped off with us in close pursuit.

It took us much too long to reach the lakeshore. By the time we rode to the edge of the battle, Azog’s forces had erupted out of vast caverns eaten out of the rocks by immense rock worms. A wide line of Dwarves was arrayed before the approaching horde. Just as the Orcs reached the line, waves of Woodland Elves vaulted over the Dwarves and plunged into the fray. Behind them, the men of Laketown charged forward with a roar. I was relieved that Elves, Dwarves, and Men had put aside their disagreements to face the Goblins and Orcs.

Ahead of us, Legolas raced for the king. His father was astride his great Elk, both of them splattered with black blood. Should I approach? As I paused, Kíli slid off the horse.

“Go, Tauriel!” he shouted. “Warn your king. I’ll tell my people!”

My throat tightened. “I don’t want to lose you, Kíli!”

“I won’t lose you, _amrâlimê_! I’ll find you once I’ve told my people!” Kíli ran back to me and shoved something into my hand – his mother’s rune stone. “Keep this as a promise!”

He turned and ran.

“ _A’maelamin_!” I shouted, my heart in my throat. He waved, drew his sword, and plunged into the battle.

 

* * *

 

I wheeled my horse to race after Legolas, catching up to him as he battled a rush of Orcs that blocked him from the king. I drew my sword and rushed in beside the prince with a yell. More Orcs poured after the ones we fought, and the battle swirled around us with dizzying intensity. Ahead of us, the king fought with his warriors, but the ebb and flow of the conflict swept us apart. I saw the king’s elk steed slain, and the king hewing our enemies on foot until his bodyguards were able to pull him back from the worst of the conflict. Legolas and I both lost our mounts, but still we labored on foot beside each other, still intent on reaching the king. It was long moments before we reached him. Legolas faced the last pair of Orcs, and pushed me towards the king.

“Tell him!” he urged, and turned back to the Orcs.

I ran to the king in the midst of his officers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and cold. He turned to me in a rush.

“What are you doing here?” the king spat.

“A second army of Orcs is on its way, My Lord. From Gundebad. I have seen it, with Bolg at its head. They will be upon us within the hour.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Then we will withdraw. Leave the Dwarves to the trouble they drew.”

My jaw dropped. “But the Dwarves will be slaughtered if we leave them, My Lord! We cannot support them only to abandon them in the middle of the battle!”

His expression was unconcerned. “Yes, they will die. Today, tomorrow, one year hence, a hundred years from now. What difference does it make? They are mortal.”

Such disregard stunned me. Kíli was right about his arrogance, and heat rushed through me hotter than an Elf should be able to generate. Before I thought, I’d drawn my sword and pointed it at the king.

“How can you leave the rest of the world to fight our enemies?” I shouted. “Have you forgotten how to love another? Or have you never loved anything other than yourself? How can your life be worth so much more than theirs, when they can love while you cannot? There is no love in you anymore!”

The king’s fury was so intense that he struck my sword out of my hands before I registered the blow. It flew aside with a clang, and the king leaped forward to stab the point of his great blade at my throat. “What do you know of love?” he hissed. His eyes burned, but not like Kíli’s, with the warmth of the sun. The fire in his eyes was apocalypse. “You know nothing! What you feel for that Dwarf isn’t real – it is travesty, and I will prove it to you! Are you ready to die for it?”

“At the hands of a coward? A murderer?” I shouted back. “Is that how you prove the worth of your love?”

“If you harm her, you will have to kill me!” Legolas’ blade parried his father’s aside. His father gaped at his son, who had finally found a reason to abandon convention. “Leave the field if you choose, father. But I won’t.”

Legolas picked up my sword, handed it to me, and turned back to the battle. “Let’s go.”

The king reached out to Legolas, but his son was beyond his touch. I followed Legolas, but not before I saw Thranduil turn back to his officers. He’d stay in the fight now, because his son’s life was at stake. Perhaps the king had something in his heart, after all.

 

* * *

 

Legolas and I plunged back into the fray. Legolas shouted to our warriors, and many rallied to him to provide an organized attack on the Orcs. We forced them back, driving them towards the laboring Dwarvish line, so that we trapped them between our two forces. The fight disintegrated into brutal slaughter as Elves and Dwarves brought the fight to the Orcs on two fronts.

In the distance, three Dwarves mounted on battle rams galloped towards a watchtower to the south of Erebor – Thorin, Fíli, and Dwalin. A pair of Orcs rushed me, but when I had dispatched them, I looked back after the Dwarves. A fourth ram raced after them – Kíli. I caught one of the milling horses, swung myself up, and raced after my _a’maelamin_. So many Orcs separated us! I found too many targets for my sword as I forced my way towards the watchtower.

When I reached the base of the watchtower where the Dwarves’ rams milled, I leaped off my horse and scrambled up the rise. I crested it to find Thorin heading for the watchtower itself.

“Thorin! Another army of Orcs is coming!” I shouted. “Gundebad Orcs, led by the Defiler’s son!”

“I’ve heard.” The Dwarf’s gaze swept the watchtower, which appeared deserted. “Azog has fled, likely to close ranks with his son. We’re reconnoitering now to follow him.”

Thorin started away from the watchtower, with me behind – and here stumbled the hobbit Kíli had told me about, babbling about Bolg’s oncoming army. His words died as a sudden stir on the upper levels of the watchtower brought all of us around.

There was Azog. In horror, I recognized the small struggling figure he dragged behind him. Azog stopped at the edge of the landing, and held Fíli up by the neck of his armor. The blond Dwarf twisted in the Orc’s grasp, trying desperately to free himself. On the landing one level below, Kíli crouched in the doorway.

“First the heir, then the brother!” Azog shouted, pointing the scimitar that impaled the stump of his left arm at Thorin. “Then you! Your line is ended!”

He shook Fíli, who still fought the Orc’s stranglehold. The blond Dwarf spotted his uncle, Bilbo, and me below him, all of us frozen. He stopped struggling, stared down at us as he gathered his courage, and drew breath.

“Go!” he roared. “Run! Run!”

Azog’s reaction was instant. He ran Fíli through with his scimitar, then jerked the jagged blade free in a red spray that splattered the rocks at his feet. The blow was so devastating that Fíli could not have lived but a few seconds. Bolg threw the body off the rocks, where it landed at Kíli’s feet. Even at this distance, the shock on Kíli’s face was terrible. He howled like a mad thing, and charged up the stairs after his brother’s murderer. He had no idea how many Orcs lay in wait for him. I could not, would not leave him to be slaughtered like his brother, so I sprinted after him.

 “Kíli!” I screamed, when I was by the stair. An Orc muscled down the stairs, but I ducked his slashing blade, rammed my sword into his throat, and kicked the body away. “Kíli!”

“Tauriel!” Kíli howled above me. “ _Amrâlimê_!”

The stairway darkened again. Bolg, Azog’s bestial son. He was immense, running with black blood from a dozen wounds, but implacable. He leaped at me with a snarl, thrusting a massive sword at me. I scrambled to duck the blow, then attacked, slashing his chest between the metal plates embedded between his ribs. As deeply as I gashed him, it did not slow his attack. He balled his hand into a massive fist, and smacked me so hard that I was thrown against the stone. My vision vanished in a blaze of light, and my hands and arms went numb. I couldn’t move as Bolg came after me. He knew I was helpless, for a leer disfigured his face as he bore down on me. He reached to grab me –

With a roar, he twisted away and leaped towards the stair. Kíli stood above Bolg, his bow in his hands as he sent arrow after arrow into the pale Orc. When the Orc got too close for Kíli to shoot at him, the Dwarf dropped his bow, drew his sword, and leaped down upon the Orc with a howl. Bolg deflected the blow with his arm, and though the blade slashed his arm so deeply that I saw white bone amid the spray of blood, he still knocked Kíli across the stairway. As the Dwarf sprawled, Bolg lunged after him, just seizing his leg. With a powerful jerk, he dragged Kíli within range of his sword. Kíli just managed to deflect the blow, but it hammered him so hard that he fell back stunned. Bolg dragged him closer, clamped his hand around Kíli’s throat, and hauled him off his feet. No! I wouldn’t let him be slaughtered the way his brother had been. I would not!

As I fought my way to my feet, Bolg bent Kíli over his thigh and raised his sword high, the point right over Kíli’s heart. The blade had started its plunge down when I leapt, knives outstretched. I slashed the back of his neck, drawing him to scream, and the sword hesitated above Kíli. I howled my _a’maelamin’s_ name, and stabbed both blades deeply into each side of the Orc’s neck, sawing each one frantically back and forth to inflict as horrific a pair of wounds as I had strength to make. Bolg roared again, then a shock trembled through his body. There! Kíli had stabbed his sword into Bolg’s groin, which loosened the Orc’s grip enough for Kíli to scrabble away. He scrambled up the stairs on all fours to reach his bow. I plunged my knives again into Bolg’s body as Kíli sent another arrow full half its length into the Orc’s throat. The Orc’ spasms this time were so strong that I was thrown free, landing hard on my shoulders behind him near the edge of the platform. Kíli nocked his last arrow, holding it until Bolg would charge –

Instead, Bolg whirled and grabbed me by the throat.

“No!” Kíli screamed, as he sent his last arrow into Bolg’s back. It didn’t stop Bolg from jerking me upright. He was going to throw me off the platform! Right in front of my _a’maelamin_ , he would throw me on the rocks below, and then he would go after Kíli. I dug in my fingers like claws, around metal harness and into grey, maggot-ridden, dead flesh. When Bolg tried to fling me away, I carried him with me, shoving hard against the stone to push us away from the edge of the platform. It was just enough that Bolg couldn’t jerk us back, and we fell over the side with Kíli’s anguished howl in my ears.

We hung in the air long enough for me to kick away from Bolg, sending him into the rough rocks so hard that a shower of rock shards tumbled down the slope. I had an easier landing onto rubble, sliding onto the remains of a crumbled platform above a steep drop, but it still knocked my breath from me. I lay gasping, unable to move farther away from the edge of the platform until I could bring air into my lungs.

“Tauriel! Get up. Get up!”

Kíli was frantic. Bolg scrambled up the rocks, still intent on me. But my lack of breath held me paralyzed, no matter how much I wanted to escape. Kíli howled again, and my throat closed in despair. He couldn’t reach Bolg before Bolg reached me –

A horrible, wailing cry from some pain-maddened beast echoed off the rocks, followed by a shudder in the rock itself, and a cascade of rubble around me. Above me, Bolg hesitated, and his gaze shifted towards the source of the cry. The Orc’s breath gusted from him in an eager snort, and he turned. Was he after Kíli? I fought to rise, but as soon as Bolg leaped away, Kíli scrabbled down the rocks towards me. If I needed more proof of his affection, the wide-eyed terror in them was evidence enough. He flung a look over his shoulder after Bolg, making sure the Orc hadn’t turned back to us, then his eyes were back on me. He clattered to his knees, frantic to pull me away from the edge and into his lap.

“Tauriel, Tauriel!” he gasped, clutching me to his chest. “Tauriel, _amrâlimê_ , don’t leave me. Don’t leave me! Stay with me!”

I gasped as my lungs finally filled, and tears stung my eyes. I shut them, but I took Kíli’s hand in mine and squeezed it hard. “I’m here, Kíli. I’m here.”

“Bless the Valar.” He buried his face against my neck, but looked up quickly, still scanning for Bolg. He squeezed my hand so hard that it hurt, but I didn’t care. He was alive. “We have to get away from here, _amrâlimê_ , before we’re overrun.”

He didn’t wait for me to speak, but took me up in his arms and carried me up the broken rocks to the base of the stairs. From there, I understood why Bolg had turned from me, because below us the massive Orc battled Legolas. The Orc still carried all the arrows that Kíli had put into him, and the black blood smeared over his neck and down his body told the damage my knives had wrought. Still, it took long moments before Legolas finished the monster.

Kíli carried me up the stairs to the highest platform of the Dwarvish watchtower. Black blood spattered him from head to toe. His face was bloody from a bad cut near his right temple, and his eyes were as dark as bruises. But he had one more ordeal to face. At the edge of an icy pool at the far end of the expanse lay another dead Orc. Just beyond lay a Dwarf’s body, with a smaller body huddled beside it. The Orc was Azog, the huge pale Orc. The Dwarf was Kíli’s Uncle Thorin, and the smaller body was Bilbo. Kíli swallowed a cry as he carried me around the pool to kneel beside the hobbit, who sobbed in silence. Thorin still breathed, but his abdomen was a wallow of blood that pooled rapidly beneath him, and his skin was the grey of old wax.

Kíli put me down and went to his uncle. I don’t know what they said to one another, for it was in Dwarvish. But they had only a few moments before Thorin took his last breath. Kíli had his uncle’s hands in his, and he bowed over them. Then he threw back his head and howled until the rocks echoed with it. The hobbit was a tenderhearted soul, for he crouched beside the young Dwarf, his hand on his shoulder, offering what solace he could. I crawled to his other side, and offered the same touch. I have never seen such profound grief, nor heard such terrible sorrow.

In time, Kíli was exhausted, and his howls faded to a wail, then to a silent cry. He remained bowed over his uncle’s hands, unable to let them go. In the space of a few moments, Kíli had lost his brother and his uncle, who perhaps were all that remained of his family. His eyes were empty, lost, and bereft of his usual life and warmth.

The hobbit still cried his own tears, but he patted Kíli’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, Kíli. So sorry. I loved your uncle, too.”

Kíli nodded.

“You’re king under the mountain, now,” the hobbit said.

Kíli looked at the hobbit, then back at his uncle. He shook his head. “I’m no king, Bilbo.” His voice sounded thin and empty. “I never wanted to be, and I’m wise enough to know that I’d be a poor one. Let Dain be king. He’ll do a better job of it.”

“They’ll know you’re alive,” Bilbo protested.

“No, they won’t. Fíli is dead...” Kíli choked, but he pushed himself on. “So is my uncle. You’re the only other one of the company who’s seen me. Let them go on thinking that I drowned in the river as we left King Thranduil’s realm.”

The hobbit eyed Kíli curiously, then me. “But that didn’t happen.”

“It nearly did.”

The hobbit nodded. “May you find happiness, then.” When Kíli didn’t move, Bilbo patted his knee. “Go in good heart, Kíli. Make something better of this day, something that has nothing to do with gold or mountains. You’re right to be rid of both.”

How Kíli found a smile, I can’t say. But he gave one to the hobbit, albeit a shadow of his usual expression. “I thank you. Will you be all right here?”

“I should think so,” he said kindly. “I’ll see to Thorin, and Fíli, and keep my own counsel about the rest. If either of you ever reach the Shire, I’d savor a visit. Tea is at four, and supper at six. You don’t have to knock. Good-bye, Kíli, and Lady Elf.”

“Tauriel,” I said softly, and shook his hand. “Master Hobbit.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” he nodded. “You’d better go, if you want to remain unnoticed.”

Kíli didn’t move, so Bilbo looked to me for help, and we drew him up at last. I was sore and battered from our fight with Bolg, but I hugged my _a’maelamin_ before we turned from Thorin’s body. We left the little hobbit to sit vigil, quietly mourning, and made our way away.

 

* * *

 

Below the Dwarves’ watchtower, the battle still raged, but the alliance of Elves, Dwarves, and Men would prevail. Once I would have been the first to plunge back into the fray, but that had been when I had had nothing to lose, nothing to protect. Today, I had almost lost everything to Bolg’s savagery, and now I would protect it. I was quite sore from my fall on the rocks, but Kíli was so distraught from the loss of his kin that he was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. We limped slowly into the forest, and found a quiet clutch of rocks where we could mourn undisturbed. I wouldn’t let Kíli stand off to himself; no, I sat with my back to the rocks, and I held him against my chest while he grieved. I put the rune stone he had given me as his pledge back into his hands, so that he’d know that even in the depths of his grief, I was here. He took it in his hand, wrapped mine around his, and held it to his chest. Maybe he slept a little, or maybe he was awake but too exhausted to move. The day had waned before he was able to look up again. I would have liked to give him something to eat, or even some water, for he was quite pale. But our rations had been on the horse I’d left dead on the battlefield.

Eventually, as the afternoon waned, we roused ourselves and limped to Laketown. So many Dwarves and Elves and Men intermingled amid the wreckage of the city that we were quite unremarkable. The groans and whimpers of the wounded were the prevalent sounds, and we were able to trade our services to aid them for bowls of lukewarm stew and boiled tea. I kept close to Kíli, who moved as if in a dream. Once night fell, I found enough torn canvas and broken boards to make us a tiny tent, and I guided Kíli inside with gentle hands. I lay beside him, wincing as the rough ground found my battered ribs.

“Sleep, _a’maelamin_ ,” I told him, and we nested together. Blessedly, he dropped off quickly. I wouldn’t sleep, but while the ground was rough, I took comfort in the closeness of our bodies. My warmth was not that of a Dwarf, but perhaps it was enough to bring Kíli a little solace.

We spent the next several days amid the tangle of the battlefield, for many were wounded, and the dragon’s devastation had left the city in ruins. Kíli quickly found a forge where he repaired the iron needed for rebuilding, and I continued my work among the wounded. We were not questioned, given how dire the need for help was, and so remained anonymous to both our peoples. But that was soon to change.

I had worked since before dawn with the wounded, and now made my way to Kíli’s forge with our soup from the communal pot. I caught a flash of long blond hair to my left, too close for me to slip away. I took one more step, and Legolas stood before me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

The king’s son was unsmiling. “I was about to ask the same thing of you.”

I looked away. “Does it matter, Legolas? I’m banished.”

Legolas’ gaze didn’t waver, but it changed from disapproval to regret, even sadness. “My father admits that he was rash to order the Dwarf’s death. But I can’t get him to forgive you for defending the Dwarf, or for raising your hand against him.”

Though I’d expected this, it still brought a lump to my throat. “Then where I am is no longer your father’s concern.”

“I’m not here for my father, Tauriel. I’m here for myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I told my father that if there were no room in our realm for you, then there was no room for me, either.”

I’m sure my shock showed on my face. His hand touched my arm briefly, but there was no longer any chance of that touch moving me.

“Your father needs you, Legolas. He’s lost your mother, his father, his people... don’t force him to lose you, too. You are all that remains to him that is good. Stay with him, and encourage him to let our people become part of the world again. We can’t stay apart forever.”

Legolas’ hand tightened on my arm. “You can help me to persuade him.”

“I defied him. I will not ask his forgiveness for it. I would defy him again given a similar cause. I am better off elsewhere.”

I turned with the bowls of soup in my hands, and led the way to the forge. Kíli had paused to watch us. His eyes were dark with loss, and not just of his family. He expected me to leave with Legolas, despite all we’d forged between us.

“Prince Legolas,” Kíli said. His voice was still little more than toneless, despite the days that had passed since the deaths of his brother and uncle. “I’m grateful to you for finishing the Pale Orc’s son. You saved Tauriel’s life.”

Legolas was polite enough to return Kíli’s thanks with a bow. “You fought well against him. You saved her life, as well.”

Kíli nodded acceptance, but his eyes were on me as I put down the bowls of soup. He didn’t plead, but merely regarded me as if I had already slipped away. It was such a painful look that I couldn’t hold it.

“Legolas brings the word I expected,” I said. “The king has banished me for raising my hand against him.”

“I’m sorry,” Kíli said. He swallowed and looked away.

Legolas put his hand on my arm. “Where will you go?”

Kíli shut his eyes.

“Here, but just for a few days. After that, we don’t know. But we will find someplace for the two of us.”

Kíli blinked and cut me a surreptitious look, not sure he’d heard me correctly. I winked.

“You don’t intend to remain in Erebor?” Legolas glowered at Kíli. “He’s the –”

“No, he’s not,” Kíli cut in brusquely. “No matter who I remind you of, he’s gone, and I’ve no desire to masquerade as a dead prince. I’m a smith and a warrior, and gladly, so I’ll thank you again if you’ll speak of me as such to anyone who asks.”

Legolas was so bemused that his only response was a single raised eyebrow. I laid a hand on his arm. “I ask you to do the same.”

“Why?” Legolas asked in a flat voice.

In answer, I pulled the two braids in the back of my hair over my shoulders. One was the Elvish _a’maelamin_ pattern; the other, the Dwarvish _amrâlimê_ pattern. Kíli wore two similar braids in his hair. If Legolas didn’t recognize the latter, he did the former, and the look I gave him confirmed that the weaves were not in jest. Legolas exhaled, but bowed to me without argument.

“I wish you well, then. Find happiness.”

He nodded to Kíli, then threaded his way through the bustle.

When he was out of sight, I glanced at Kíli. “Why did you doubt so? Are you so unsure?”

He gave that shrug he was wont to use when he wanted me to think something didn’t matter to him. “He _is_ a prince, you know. Your own kind. You’d have an easier time of it with him than with me.”

I frowned, put my arms akimbo, and marshaled my best imitation of the guttural snarl Master Dwalin had used to curse me from King Thranduil’s cell. “I’ll have the time I want, with the prince I want, won’t I?”

Kíli’s face spasmed with surprise, and he laughed with something of his usual humor. “To be the _a'maelamin_ of a fiery Elvish warrior maid still seems like a dream. I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and find I’ve imagined it all.”

With that rekindling of Kíli’s warm smile, I felt as if a huge weight had fallen from me. I felt even lighter when Kíli jumped over his anvil, grabbed my shoulders, and planted an exuberant kiss on my lips. I laughed and returned the caress with my own.

“Where shall we go then, _amrâlimê_?” Kíli asked. “I’ve chosen exile from Erebor, and you’re exiled from your home. I can’t go back to the Blue Mountains without having to be the prince I don’t want to be.”

“And we can’t stay here, even if we wanted to, for someone other than Legolas will find us out in time.”

Kíli searched my eyes, and his hands tightened on mine. “I wondered if we might find a place in... Rivendell.”

My eyebrows went up. “Imladris? Lord Elrond’s realm?”

“I can’t think of any other place where the two of us together might find refuge. Lord Elrond was gracious to me when our company visited, and you would be considered kin, yes?”

Possibilities I hadn’t thought of came to mind. “I hadn’t thought of Imladris. The Nandor are not kin to the Rivendell Elves, who escaped with Lord Elrond from Eregion, but you are right that we are all Elves. We can but ask, and if it is not to be, then we’ll look elsewhere.”

Kíli’s smile widened, warming me as it hadn’t in days. “All right. We’ll have enough to trade for mounts and traveling supplies in a few days. No more than a week.”

“Good.” I kissed him again, smiling. “We have a plan. I’m glad.”

“And soup. I’m starved!”

I laughed, and handed Kíli his cooling bowl. He hadn’t had much appetite since we’d come here, and I was relieved that he was finding his way back from his grief.

In but a few days, Kíli and I left the remains of Laketown on our bartered mounts. We were in full battle regalia, given that too many Orcs still roamed the land for unarmed travelers to venture abroad safely. We had enough stores to feed us for a pair of weeks, and we both had our bows if we found opportunity to hunt. We settled to the comfortable walk of Kíli’s pony.

We hadn’t traveled more than a few miles from Laketown before we spotted a pair of mounted figures ahead, waiting of us.

“That is the hobbit, Bilbo,” I pointed to the small figure on the pony.

“And the other is Gandalf.” Kíli’s eyes brightened as he grinned. “Have you ever met a wizard before?”

There was a tale or two to be told there, I decided. “No, but I would like change that!” I nudged my horse into a canter. Behind me, Kíli laughed as he urged his pony to catch up.

The grey wizard was smiling as we rode up. His keen eyes measured Kíli and me in turn, and he stroked his beard with satisfaction. “Master Kíli. And Mistress Tauriel. Good. Yes, very good. Both of you – no, three of you. Yes. Very good, indeed. This changes things to come for the better.”

Kíli and I exchanged startled glances. Three? Yes, three. The slight heaviness I’d thought the remnants of Bolg’s vicious assault was instead the result of two days in bed with a Dwarf. Kíli looked stunned, but I confirmed the wizard’s sharp sight with a smile. Bilbo didn’t know whether to take Gandalf to task or to congratulate us, so he did a confused mixture of both, drawing my laughter. Kíli climbed up to stand on the back of his pony, plunked himself down in front of me on my saddle, and flung his arms around me to overwhelm me with a wild hug and an even wilder kiss. It was such a passionate embrace that Bilbo felt compelled to avert his eyes, though Gandalf did not. So a wizard watched me prove that an Elf can be just as demonstrative as a Dwarf.

 

* * *

 

Our journey to Rivendell went quietly with a wizard in tow, and comfortably with a hobbit to oversee the cooking. We kept an eye out at all times for Orcs, but our lone encounter with three of them didn’t end well for them. The wizard was quite adept with his staff, but Kíli was a Dwarf afire. He took down two of them with such force behind his blows that a second blow was not needed in either case. He was intent that nothing would keep us from a safe arrival in Imladris.

But for the one incident with the Orcs, it was an uneventful time. Bilbo took pains to make fare to tempt Kíli’s lagging appetite, and Gandalf told many tales to ease him from his loss. When Kíli and I rode side by side, I made sure he knew how much I loved him and looked forward to our coming child. In a few days, he smiled with more ease, though I thought that he would never return to the carefree spirit he had been before his brother and uncle died.

Kíli was not the only one who received solace. Because I didn’t need to sleep as wizards, hobbits, or Dwarves did, I did not mind being our eyes and ears at night while the others rested. Still, Gandalf found occasion to sit with me. Many times, he was content to be a silent presence as he smoked his pipe. But now and then, he enjoyed a word or two.

“Our young Dwarf is not the only one who has lost so much,” he murmured one evening as we watched the moon rise. “Our young Elf has also paid a great price for war.”

I sighed. “I’m not sure the loss is as great as you imagine.”

“No?”

“The greater loss was losing my parents. When they died, there was no more warmth for me in the Woodland Realm. So what I leave behind is very little.”

Gandalf hummed. “But you recall the warmth of your mother and father, do you not?”

I nodded. “Very much so. With each day that passes.”

He nodded comfortably. “Then your child will know that warmth, too. And that is a good thing, both for the child as well as you and Kíli.”

I smiled. “Kíli is already over the moon. This child is very precious to him.”

Gandalf patted my knee. “So are you, child, as precious as he is to you.” He chuckled. “You are both precious to me, too. The audacity the two of you showed is refreshing. Quite refreshing. It gives me great hope.”

He got up from his rock, returned to the fire, and arranged himself for sleep, leaving me to smile about the mystery of wizards.

# # #

 

 


End file.
